Boundaries

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Boundaries intrigue me. In Kentucky, stone fences built by settlers that designated the edges of land ownership still line the serpentine roads. The stacked limestone walls are climbable. You can tunnel under them or walk through the gates. But they continue to keep out predators and confine the livestock. And a family and its neighbors know what they possessed.
Personal limits, placed to keep ourselves confined or others away from our presence challenge me. Why, I ask. Is it fear? Or, is it a sign of ownership? Perhaps love of the familiar and the peace it brings is why I and others restrict access to our hearts.
Personally, I like challenges. Peering down a steep slope with two skinny boards attached to my boots made me smile in the past. A race driving course equipped me with insight and assurance when I drove on icy Michigan roads. Living as a minority in Asia or Africa, packing a bag to last for a year didn’t faze me. However, discovering I shut emotional doors that God wants to pry open stops me flat.

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As I analyze my feelings and responses, they are translated into prose. WRITE WHAT YOU KNOW is written in capital letters in my mind. Consequently, I create characters with well entrenched boundaries that are challenged by circumstances as well as by others. In the D.B. Burns mystery series, heroine Delilah Burns Morgan faces rebuilding her life after her husband dies, then juggling the attentions of the man her husband wished her to consider marrying. In my novella, Happy Christmas, Miss Lawrence, circumstances alter Alexandra Lawrence’s journey home. Can she trust strangers to protect her in a foreign country and still maintain her peace?

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Boundaries, I have a few. When I write down my emotional fences, I see them more clearly. Occasionally Jesus limited access to his heart by withdrawing to spend time with His Father. It seems the better way.
Luke 5:16, Luke 22:41, Matthew 26:39, 42.

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