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I woke up this morning, and the first thought I had was, “No one on this earth truly knows my history.”

It’s an odd thing to think, and doesn’t really make sense until you’ve lost both of your parents. But when there is no one to call who remembers your earliest days, it overwhelms you with emotions that are hard to accurately describe.

I’m thankful for so many things about my Abba Father, but one that fills me with gratitude is His loving attention: to me as I grieve, and to the tender application of His word to my wounds.

As the emotions began to make the walls close in, He took me to Psalm 139.

You watched me as I was being formed in utter seclusion, as I was woven together in the dark of the womb. You saw me before I was born. Every day of my life was recorded in your book. Every moment was laid out before a single day had passed. (‭‭Psalms‬ ‭139:15-16‬ ‭NLT, emphasis mine)

“I know your history, Paul. I was there before anyone on this earth even began counting your days. Ask Me, and I’ll show you the book. Not one moment of your life — past, present, or future — escapes My watchful eye.”

Thank You, Abba.

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