I've been doing a lot of thinking (and praying) about this blog lately. You see, while I did initially create it on a whim with little to no direction or idea as to what I hoped to achieve from it, I've always felt a bit like it was in response to a calling. A faint one maybe, but a calling nonetheless. The truth is, I'm not sure I was even convinced I'd keep at it for more than two months, much less for over two years.
Yet here I am, over two years later. Still at it. Not as much lately as I was at one time and the why that is exactly is what has been on my mind and my heart for quite a long while now.
We all have gifts bestowed upon us by God and unique to each of us. I believe that and am convinced that it is true. I just never have been able to put my finger on what my personal gifts to the world are. I've read article after article, blog post after blog post, and book after book trying to uncover them but have yet to arrive at that Aha moment where the clouds part and my answer is delivered to me via angels' wings on God's personal stationery or from the smooth, clear, authoritative voice of Mr. Morgan Freeman.
And I confess that sometimes I begin to feel inferior to all the other stars that appear to be shining so much more brightly around me so I cross my arms, stick out my lip like a pouting child and whine. As if I actually believe this little tactic will somehow help me arrive at my desired destination. I eventually come to my senses, realize how childish I'm being and conclude that God must get just as frustrated with me as I get with my boys at times.
But I also know that just as I couldn't possibly love them any less or any more than I do right now, than I always have, and always will (no matter what they do or don't do) that he feels the same way about me (even more so as hard to imagine as that is), about all of us, each and every one. Even when we're acting up and even when we feel he isn't listening to us, talking to us, answering us.
I know that there is something that has kept me coming here to this place, this tiny little speck of space in the internet world, day after day and week after week for so many months now. That even when I feel that my voice and my words don't matter, that they aren't reaching people, aren't having the impact I long for them to have or when I hear nothing but the sound of crickets and my words echoing back at me off the empty walls or even worse, when they just won't come at all, I still keep coming back, giving it another try and hoping for the best.
And I suppose that just as that is what we want most from and for our children, then that must surely be what he expects and desires most from us. To simply try to do our best and to never give up even during the times when the very trees themselves seem to be blocking our view of the forest.
Because the forest is there whether we can always see it or not. Of that I am sure.