I beg. I fight. I hold my breath. I can't breathe. Oh, thats right. Breathe out. I wonder. I doubt. I remember this life is not about me, but about how much I receive God's love and how much of that love I give to others in the many ways I think, breathe, speak, listen, and move while spending my days here on earth.
I will die someday.
So I might as well stop worrying about the perfect spot where all MY gifts and MY talents and MY passions can effectively fit into this world. After all... if I am entitled to every happiness and all my rights are worth worrying about, will all that time and attention on myself help uplift others and enlarge my sensitivity of NEEDING God to fill me with the love to serve others?
I will die someday. I've been told dying to myself now can help me truly live, and live abundantly.
May I surrender my will to be stretch, molded, pried, renewed, and fired like a glass jar to hold this precious love and pour it out over others. I hope to show others that there is a God, and he is love and he is faithful to love, even when we fall short.
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