I am created, not Creator.
I am redeemed, not Redeemer.

Simple enough to memorize, but sometimes too complex to imprint on my heart. But this morning I look around our home and I am put in place as created and redeemed.

We sit comfortably on gray leather couches (from mom) while watching our favorite shows on our big screen T.V. (from brother-in-law). My tea cups have a place to rest on little side tables, all thrift store purchased and refurbished by my mom. My bills live in a desk I used as a teenager, now stripped and stained to fit the look of our home.

My girls have bookshelves and a huge storage case, again thrift store purchased by my mom and repainted to fit their room. Our token pet, Beyonce the Bearded Dragon, was even gifted to us.

The bakers rack that houses our pantry items, a gift. The fridge, a gift. Our stove, a gift. Our kitchen table, kitchen desks, window side bench and corner storage unit, all gifts.

Our yard, filled with grass and plants and a beautiful patio, gifts.

Our trailer, a gift.

Items to fill the trailer for desert and lake trips, mostly all gifts.

I am sure I am forgetting many other gifts, but you get the point.

I am created, not Creator.
I am redeemed, not Redeemer.