I once thought freedom meant doing my will—
Just following whims, every pleasure and thrill.
But choices kept tangling like knots in a rope,
Till I learned the power of choosing with hope.
I blamed all my blunders on this one or that,
On troubles, on mishaps, the dog, or the cat.
But blame never fixed what my choices had done.
My excuses were always losers. I’ve never won.
One day, Reality said, “I choose what I do.
It isn’t my neighbor, my boss, or my shoe.”
For deep in my heart, I can see and can tell
In dependence, I’m making choices as well.
But oh, what a puzzle. A twist. A surprise.
Dependence on God made me truly feel wise.
Not forced, not compelled or pushed from behind—
I’ve been chosen, selected, and superbly designed.
It’s a wonderful thing when your freedom is spent
On choosing the path where your heart’s truly bent.
For picking God’s way—well, I say it again—
Is the best kind of choice in the land of depend.
So here is the secret that I am happy to share:
Independence is choosing which dependance you bear.
Your freedom is real—but it deepens and blends
When you gladly depend on the One who defends.
For freedom is finest when bent toward the right,
Like choosing the sunshine instead of the night.
So march with your choices, both noble and grand—
And depend on the Lord with your heart, mind, and hand.
