Sprinting for the finish line...

Just to catch you up fast, no this is not about being a runner. So what do I mean? Let me tell you. I am a sprinter and this is a problem. No, not a sprinter in the literally sense but in a metaphorical one. The Christian faith is laid out to be a marathon. The comparison to a race is consistent through scripture. We are admonished to “lay aside every weight and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us” (Hebrews 12:1). We are told to run in such a way as to obtain the prize (1 Corinthians 9:24). It is not the analogy most often referred to but it is common for most and I have found a problem in my own life with running this race. I am not a marathon runner. When you read the verses, that I encourage you to look up on your own, don’t you get the feeling that these verses are talking about a long journey? Finding the word endurance implies anything but a short sprint to the finish line and I am a sprinter. Maybe you are too. Still confused? Let me expand.

I have found a pattern in my own Christian walk. There are these burst of energy, passion, desire where I run whole heartedly towards the goal. I chase fervently and recklessly towards the prize. I trip, I fall, I crawl, I walk. The intensity changes but I am constantly moving forward. I am looking at my beloved creator and singing his name as I chase his heart. Then suddenly, almost violently, I stop. I can hear a few of you breath a sigh of relief as clarity settles in and your mind whispers, “Oh, well, that is normal.” It may be normal but I take issue with it. I don’t mean I am crawling forward on bruised knees. It’s like my mind, heart, soul, call it whatever you will goes, “Okay, that’s enough for now. I think I am going to sit on this rock for a while. I’ll catch you later God.” What?! Excuse me?! This is not the reaction you have to an Almighty God. This is not how you react to a lover. This is not a marathon runner. Sprinters stop running. Marathoners keep going long after the sprinter has given out. I am a sprinter, and I take serious issue with myself.

Guess where I am today. I am sitting on that rock. I don’t know why. I couldn’t explain it if I tried, if my life (or soul) depended on it. I can hear my Saviour calling. I can feel him poking. I know he is wooing but still I sit. I can’t help but laugh at myself and I can’t help but cry for myself either. I know who I am. I know who calls me loved. I know who’s arms I belong in. I know who orchestrates my life. There is no confusion for me who my King is, though how accurately I know Him can be examined later. There is no time for that tonight. Tonight I wrestle with how to become a marathon runner. How to pursue Him everyday without stopping. What does it say about me if I do not chase after Him? What does it say I believe? I have an inkling these questions fall under the trust category and the ever present be still and wait for Him category.

In all my searching of races, running, and persevering I found this verse and perhaps it holds the answers to my questions. Isaiah 40: 30-31 “Even youths shall faint and be weary, and young men shall fall exhausted; but they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint.” Wait on the Lord. Wait on the Lord. Wait on the Lord. It reminds me of Exodus 14:14 a verse dear to my heart as of late. It says “The Lord will fight for you, you need only be still.” So I tell myself, be still, he will come for you. He will fight for you. He is after all the lover of your soul, and lovers rescue. Lovers fight for the beloved. I don’t have an answer to my question. No solution to my problem has been found. However, of this I am certain. I am sure that my King will not abandon me. I know He won’t throw up His hands and walk away. I know He is certain of my love for Him and His love for me even when I don’t get it, even when I can’t see it. So for tonight I will sit on this rock and I will wait for my Lover to return and when He does my heart will again be filled. My legs will again find strength and again I will try to be a marathon runner. Who knows maybe I will get the hang of it this time.

Dancing with skeletons

If you can't get rid of the skeleton in your closet you'd best take it out and teach it to dance. ~George Bernard Shaw


I am a counselor by trade, a therapist at heart so reading this quote for the first time I was taken aback and even scoffed at it. (As much as anyone can scoff at something a great writer says.) However, something about this quote pulled me in. There was something beautiful about it. The image of a skeleton in a bow tie and top hit flitted gracefully across my mind. SO I read it again, again and again and it made sense. Why wouldn’t we do this? Of course I thought this solves so many problems. Let me explain.

As a therapist I have purported the need to “empty your closet”. Bones are useless and no good so throw them out with the rest of the trash you have stored from your life of pain and disgrace. Clean out your closet until it is empty and bare, but if we clean out our closets until they are bare why do we even have closets in the first place? What if closets are made to keep our dancing bones? You see skeletons are not all bad. It is often the wounds in our life that help us help others. It is often our wounds that are encased in the visage of a skeleton and our wounds are beautiful. Do I sound crazy to you? I promise I am anything but. It is through hurt and pain that the most beautiful of characters are formed, it is through the hurt and pain that we are sanctified and made more perfect, more whole. It is through working through those wounds and, to honor Mr. Shaw, teaching our skeletons to dance that we become beautiful.

Consider for a moment that secret you hold in your closet? Think long and hard about the skeleton that lurks there. It has probably been a while since you have touched it. It is covered in dust and cob webs. Spiders have made their home in the eye sockets and the whole being lays crumpled in a mess of bones that is indiscernible to anyone but you. Now imagine taking that secret out of the closet. Dust it off, clean it up and dress it out then the dancing lessons begin. Find a hanger for your newly dressed skeleton because no doubt in the beginning pulling him out of the closet for a waltz or fox trot will be painful. The skeleton will be clumsy and lost in the motions of elegant, graceful movement. The long years being shoved, mangled and bundled in the back of the cold dark closet have taught it everything but grace. You have learned to do anything but touch this wound but slowly it begins to feel normal in your grasp. Slowly he learns to move his feet in time and that his lack of ligaments do not keep him from being able to spin and twirl with the slightest gesture. Am I still not making sense? Does dancing with your skeleton (or skeletons) seem ludicrous. Don’t run yet, it is just the fear and panic talking.

2 Corinthians 1:3-4 says “Blessed is the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who COMFORTS US in all our TROUBLES so that WE MAY BE ABLE TO COMFORT those experiencing any trouble with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.” If we never have wounds, if we never teach our bones to dance how are we to be comforted? How are we then supposed to know how to comfort other people? Yes, we can. In a limited sense. I don’t have to experience great pain to understand the loss of a child. I can empathize and I can ache with a grieving parent. But pair two sets of parents in a room who have lost a child and the compassion and the comfort that they experience is ten fold. Now think about what happens if one of those parents have never dealt with that loss. What if they have never taught their skeleton to dance? They run from the situation and they miss out on the comfort available to them.

So don’t back down. Open your closet wide. Dust off your skeleton. Turn on the record player and teach your skeletons to dance. Then dance your way around your world. Show others what you have come through and let them take heart in knowing that it can be done. Let them be in awe of the beauty that has come from a ghastly situation. Teach your skeletons to dance.

Happy Birthday to me.

I don't know that I have the words to write this but something deeper compels me. Ernest Hemingway wrote "There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a type writer and bleed." I suppose that is what you are about to witness.

Tomorrow is my birthday. I will be 27 years old and tonight I sat with my little sister and a few friends as we talked about who we would be if we had never come to know Christ. If we had no faith what would our lives look like. It was an interesting and heavy conversation to have on my birthday. A day that begs me to evaluate my life and consider what I am. We each slowly realized that the mistakes that we made in life would have continued and potentially left far deeper impacts on our lives. We agreed that none of us would be here and above all else we all agreed that our lives would be full of despair and hopelessness. I was labeled "a force to be reckoned with" and I can only imagine what that means in the minds of the girls that surrounded me tonight. For me it meant all the cruelty and malice that I have in my heart would surface. All the evil that hides in the dark corners of my heart would find reason to come alive. For me it meant that I would be less kind, less considerate and far to certain of myself. For me it is not a reality I wish to see for myself. It is not who I ever want to be. However, something else happened with this conversation.

I found gratitude. The truth is I am 27 years old and have little to show for myself. Granted I am harsh on myself with what I have expected of myself up till now. If I were to show you the list of expectations I had for myself by age 27 you would stare in wonder at why I ever thought that was reasonable. You most likely would consider me insane and that is okay. I am single, I have no "prospects" I work a job where I attempt to help people and doubt constantly my effectiveness at it. I don't make much money and I am attempting to buy a home, which daily is a struggle that I am just as likely to fail at as I am to succeed. I am not doing what I always planned to do. For all intents and purposes I have failed. Yet that is not what my hope is grounded in. Worldly standards and accomplishments as well as my own list of wildly ridiculous standards mean nothing in life of my hope. Certainly someone else could be better at my job but I have the joy and privilege to walk along side lives as they heal and grow. It is beautiful to see. I get to see those created from clay find wholeness (though it breaks my heart daily when they do not understand the wholeness they can have) I have friends that love me dearly and I would give all of my life's blood for. I have family that can never be replaced and are worth more than my very breath to me. I have hope.

Beyond all of that I have the hope of a world beyond this one. My citizenship is in heaven and this world is not my home. I have the hope of a savior who gave his life blood for me so that this hope can be everlasting. So yes I have lived 27 years of my short life and I don't have near what I thought to show for those years but the hope I have out weighs my standard for accomplishments. I have walked along side a King and have been loved by him daily. I have followed him the very best I know how and I get to delight in the love that he lavishes on me. My life is beautiful and precious. It is a mystery that unfolds day by day, it is a journey that is simple and mundane but epic in its complexities. I am delighted with my life because of the hope I have.

So no I am not a force to be reckoned with. I am sure that I am that girl somewhere in my soul and I do not doubt the cruelty that hides in the darkest parts of my soul. I catch glimpses of that girl from time to time and my fear is that others see her as well. That part of me is twisted from a long, hard, dark fall from beauty forgiveness and grace. A fall I was never present for but bear the consequences of. That part of me is most often referred to by others as "my flesh". She is a sad girl that doesn't understand the light that loves her. She is a lost girl that longs for that same light even though it denies her so many of her desires. Even those darkest parts of me understand that something is not right and longs for the pure warm light of day. All that I am even the parts weak, sick and wounded by the fall cry for my saviour and he does not disappoint. He is not impressed by my accomplishments. He cares little about degrees, travels or income. He longs only for my heart and my heart is wholly his. At least I long for it to be. That too is a daily battle but the longing remains. "And I am sure of this, that He who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ" Phil 1:6 so "let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for He who promised is faithful." Hebrews 10:23

Falling in Love

I have always been a self declared summer child. Always. I love the smell of summer, the hot wind on my face and in the south the way the humidity can make you feel as though you are swimming through the air. I love the tingly goose bumps I get as the sun beats on my skin and comfortably warm moves to hot. I love climbing into my ridiculously sweltering car and seeing how long I can go until the heat is unbearable. I love the rush of the cool air conditioning after being outside if only long enough to check the mail. I love being in the water, basking in the sun, sitting on porches, the sound of crickets, cicadas and tree frogs. I love that my skin gets darker as my hair gets lighter. There is nothing about summer that I don't love but something is changing.

For the first time ever I find myself excited about fall. I am so excited about warm sweaters, pumpkin flavored coffee, fall decorations, thanksgiving, golden, yellow, orange and red leaves. I am beyond excited for boots with skirts, scarves, layers, and rich warm colors. I am excited about family and friend get togethers, bon fires on chilly nights and fall love. Love is sweet in the spring and beautiful in the summer but love in the fall makes me smile down to my soul. I don't know what to do with myself with this new revelation. Something in the fall air has captivated my mind and won my heart. I don't know what it is or what to do about it but I am enjoying the journey all the same. The anticipation builds as the hot days turn to cold nights and my dreams turn to fanciful journeys about finding love. I don't know why this change is happening or what it is that has captivated me but captivated I am. I am not ready for summer to end but I am ready for fall to begin. Children bouncing off to school with new backpacks, pens and paper. College students making new traditions and keeping old ones. Football coming back and people uniting over a group of men chasing a ball across a fake grass field. Fall seems to be the time for connecting with friends, building relationships and maybe even falling in love. So dear friend no matter what time of year you find yourself fancying the most, take your time this season and love fall. Love the smells, colors and changes that are happening. Love the shorter days and colder nights. Enjoy the warmth of fires, sweaters, scarves and the arms of the one you love. Smile through it all and close your eyes because some of the best things in life happen when your eyes are closed. Never forget happiness is in the journey not the destination.

Shared Dreams

There are many things that I hate about the technological age. I hate that increasingly I hear more and more about people spending all their time in front of televisions, computer screens, ipads, tablets and other electronic devices and less time sitting next to each other having a conversation. I hate that there is talk of creating an "alternate" reality through the technological world. (This idea both terrifies and sickens me.) But there are also things that I love. I love that internet access allows me to watch any television show I please commercial free and I can sort through the news without news stations deciding what to show me. I literally LOVE google and being able to search any topic then proceed to read, read, read and read some more on that topic and almost anyone related to it. However, even more than that I love blogs. I love being able to look into the minds and hearts of others, both friends and strangers, and realize I am not alone. Realize that my dream is actually shared by someone else.

I read such a blog by a man that I have never met but I hope to one day (This is about as unlikely as my meeting Adam Young or Bono but one must have dreams.) That man's name is Steven Kirby. He runs a program called Haiti H.E.R.O (www.haitihero.org take a second and check it out). It is an orphanage for children in Haiti being built and established to provide, safe housing, food, education, counseling and life skills development for children who have lost parents both before, during and after the earthquake. I strongly envy Mr. Kirby for several reasons. One I wish I had the gusto and know how to start such an organization and I wish I was there working along side him.(This is something God and I constantly struggle over, He says no I say yes. Take a guess on who wins that battle every stinkin' time!) It is his most recent blog post that has inspired a post of my own. (You can find the link for that post at the bottom of this post.) In his post he outlined my own passion and created what reads almost like a mission statement. He says "...the reality is, those of us that have the resources, the education and the means, have a responsibility to serve others. In the end, it is our country that we are fighting for. It is our world that we are fighting for. I will never be satisfied that my house is safe, my neighborhood is safe, or even my community is safe. I am obligated to reach outside of that to ensure that every house is safe and fed, every neighborhood is safe and protected, and that our country and the world is a place of success, not strife." It is a beautiful endeavor, even if it is an impossible one.

If you are anything like me nothing can break your heart more quickly than a scan through the evening news. It seems that the world I live in is bent on nothing more than destroying itself. No one is safe, no one is secure and everyone is at risk for harm. It is an idea that threatens to overwhelms me almost daily if I will allow it. It makes me want to shrink back into myself and ignore the world at large because I can't stop it all. It makes me want to disconnect my internet provider, turn off all my electronics and just live MY life and work MY sphere of influence. On the days I do this I am in blissful ignorance. My world happily shrinks down around me like that infernal plastic wrapping on CD cases, hugging my own skin and protecting me from any problems of an outside world. But again if you are like me you can't stand staying shut away because the world constantly whispers for help.

The reality is I can't save everyone. No the reality is I can't save anyone, not even myself. But I have a hope. I have a creator King who can save everyone. He didn't ask me to save myself, he didn't ask me to save anyone else. He just asked me to love Him and in loving him he put a passion in my heart for his people, his most valued creation. I want nothing more than to serve them, to love them and to see them (each and everyone of them) come to know the hope, wholeness and healing that I have found in his arms. This is my dream. A dream that I am encouraged to know is shared. I am delighted to find that I do not fight this battle alone because on so many days I feel like I do. It is a lie that I have to choose not to believe. (And that sentence can begin a whole other post all for itself about a king of lies that would isolate each one of us.)

So Mr. Kirby this post is for you. Thank you for reminding me that my Creator King did not set this passion in my heart alone. Thank you for reminding me that it doesn't matter where I am the world is hurting and hopeless and I can make a difference. To my sweet readers I pray you remember that as well. You are not alone. Perhaps your dream is not mine. Maybe yours has a different taste and feel. That's okay. It is your dream, it has been placed in your heart for a reason so pursue it and never forget you are not alone in your dream. Don't believe the lie that you are alone and all is lost. Frederick Buechner once wrote "The place God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world's deep hunger meet." Find your place. Find your joy and gladness and you will serve a purpose far grander than the short years of your life. I pray this for myself and for each of you. I pray that you find the "place where your deep gladness and the world's deep hunger meet" so that the mark we leave behind long outlast our own frail bodies and points forever forward and upward to a glorious King that can answer every heart cry and save ever wandering soul.

<3 kt

"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost." ~ J.R.R Tolkien

A snap at a time

So the world of photography is new and wonderous to me. There are so many things that I do not know and need to learn and so many different ways to get there. It can be overwhelming sifting through site after site working out who can give you information the best way possible. A couple of hints and tricks I have learned in my short time in this ever growing field.

1.) You can take photos. Don't be shy take your camera where you want to. It's okay to have this passion and share it. Don't let yourself be awkward it's okay. One of my favorite photogs posted on her website a quote and I cannot remember where it came from but it stuck. It went something along the lines of "at the end of the day we are just taking pictures we are not curing cancer." So true. Don't take yourself so seriously. Have fun this is a love and a passion enjoy it!
2.) Be respectful. If you see and idea you like, sure use it but be careful when copying someone else's work. (i.e. watch snapping shots behind pro photogs at weddings, events etc where they are paid to catch special moments) Don't jump in the middle of shots or stand in the way and don't get upset when you are asked to step just a little one way or another. Let yourself have fun at this events don't stress on capturing the "perfect" moment let them do that. You capture your memories for you! (see tip one) :)
3.) Most professional photogs want you to be better at your craft. Ask them questions, pick their brains and engage them. They are more than likely going to help you. Don't be intimidated because their camera is "better" than yours its about ideas, shots etc not about what you use. Which leads to tip four.
4.) Use whatever you have. We all have wonder lust for more pixels, wider, longer, faster zooms. There is always something to add. But use what you have. What you have is good enough. Pictures are not about the equipment they are about the photographer and his/her subject. People have won awards with point and shoot cameras as well as the flashiest fanciest Nikon!
5.) Pick just a few photogs that you love and respect their work. More than likely they will give you tips for websites, books and equipment that they use as well as how they set up their shots and sites. Picking three or four to follow and learn from can be plenty so as not to get overwhelmed cause we all work a little different.
6.) Find some sites that offer you tips and tools of the trade. One of my favorites is MCP actions ( http://www.mcpactions.com/blog/ ) She has some great tips for using photoshop unlocking new tools and simply making the world of photography not so scary. :)
7.) Be you! You see the world in a unique way. No matter who you admire, who you wish you were or what equipment you use always be you. You won't ever be Ansel Adams or any other famous photographer simply because you are not them. Be famous for being you. You are good enough, you are talented enough. So take pictures, one snap at a time and love it ever moment! :)

Romantic Idealism

So I like to pretend that I am not really a romantic at heart, but one look at my itunes will tell you the I am lying. My music selection is wrought with love stories and emo bands ranging from Second Hand Serenade and Dash Board Confessionals to (what my itunes likes to classify as "alternative: and jazz) Adele, Norah Jones, Etta James, Billy Holiday and for some flair Ray LaMontagne. My closest friends know this is true and like to frequently taunt me as being "emo". I love music that makes me cry for love lost and swoon for love to come. Yea sure I like to talk tough and play as though I am above it all. I pretend like I have this on lock and all is well. I talk about not believing that there is one magical person for each one of us but secretly I hope beyond doubt or reason that there is one person that will stroll into my life and my heart will leap and my soul will whisper "That's him. I told you to keep waiting." Everyone is lying about something and this is one of mine. All I need is the thought of a soul mate that I have been created to love and my heart jumps in my chest and dances a hope filled jig. It makes my soul sing "Yes that's it, that is what I have been trying to tell you!!" It brings a smile to my face quickly and easily because I want more than anything to believe this is true. But the world with it's battering rams and dismal disappointments would have me believe anything else. The world would have me continue to lie to myself and settle. That's just like the world isn't it?

Love has been a common topic in my life as of late. Perhaps it is the list of friends that seem to be falling in and out of love. Perhaps it is simply my age. At 26 scrambling for a life partner seems to be pretty common and harder than ever. Far removed from the world of college and dorm life where new people and potential life partners are introduced daily, weekly and of course with each new semester and a new list of transfer students. Don't lie you all know you secretly hope each new semester will bring someone that will catch your eye, or that you will catch his eye. So here is my question why are we so ready to believe and convince ourselves that there isn't just ONE person out there for us?

I recently had a conversation with a friend concerning love. He is a level headed young man, bright, intelligent, witty and has in his possession more verbiage to express himself than webster's dictionary knew was contained in it's pages. He claims that he has realized that there isn't just one person. As I nodded my consent for this line of thought my heart whispered to itself "liar". I smiled inwardly and kept nodding my head. I find myself wanting to believe this is true. Why, you ask? Maybe because it would be easier, more predictable. If there isn't just one person well then I have much more control don't I. I can pick some mate that I find suitable in temperament, intelligence, personality and wit to spend the rest of my all to few days with. It means that if I am single it is mostly because I choose to be. See now the ball is in my court, and that my friends is a lie I think we all like to believe. We would all like to believe that, or as Mr. William Ernest Henley put it, "I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul." But consider this, a creator God active in my daily life. Change things up a bit? I think yes.

If there is a God that took intimate, careful time to knit me together in my mother's womb as King David put it then wouldn't he also make a match for me? Do I really think he would leave me to my own decision making abilities to choose for myself an ever changing person to tie myself to for the rest of my life? I feel that perhaps this is a silly notion. On my best days my decisions without my creator are dangerous and haphazard. I have no idea how I will change and grow over the days and years in my own life what in the world makes me think I will be able to understand how someone else will do the same and even more how I will maintain a relationship through all of it. Perhaps I am over simplifying or overcomplicating the issues. Love and marriage is about choice and decision, commit and compromise but I feel that there must be more than that. Maybe I just want to believe that God has taken that special of an interest in each of us to not only created us unique but to create us designed for each other. You have to admit it is a fairly enchanting idea.

Perhaps I am being over simplistic, foolish. Maybe my "emo" love struck side has taken over. But I like this idea. I love the idea of my creator knitting me together with him in mind and knitting him together with me in mind. It is so sweet, gentle and kind. It is beautiful and caring. It is everything that I believe my creator to be. He tells me he loves me beyond measure. He whispers that I am the apple of his eye and that he adores me. How can I believe anything other than that he has planned such a significant life event down to the detail?

Perceptions

I have found a new love for the world wide web. A world has been opened up to me that I did not know existed. I have found places in this virtual space that allow me to define myself. To stretch my preverbal wings and feel the cool breeze of things that stir my soul and tickle at my intellect. They are things that I connect with. Part of this discovery is the world of blogging. This by no means is my first blog, simply my newest. But it is in other people's blogs that, tonight, I find the inspiration to write.

I was reading one of my favorite blogs. It is penned (or perhaps typed is a better representation) by non other than Adam Young. For those of you who do not know, Adam Young is the singer, song writer, one man show of Owl City. His blog is one of my favorites. The way he turns phrases and strings words together always enchants me. But it is not his words that have inspired my own prose. It is the words of his readers. Those loyal fans who faithfully read each blog. The ones who faithfully comment with their love and affection, who race to be the first to read and comment on the mental summersaults of an artist. It is in their comments that I find my grief and frustration.

As I was reading through the comments of these faithful readers I found myself being torn between shock, frustration, anger, sadness, pity, and sorrow. In their words there was judgement, there was concern, there was empathy, and falseness. They found so much in his words and then it occurred to me, yes his words inspired them but it was in themselves that they found their responses. What I read in his blog and what I read in the comments were something else. I saw their reflections of personal fears, anxiety, distaste, frustration. The blog itself ended, as Adam's blogs often do, on a more positive note. Yet there seemed to be little to no recognition of this fact in the readers comments.

As I sat staring and reading over and over again the comments left. Connecting one to another question after question rolled through my head. Did Adam read these remarks? Did they frustrate or unnerve him? Did he ever comment back? Did they ever create in him a desire to stop sharing his heart? Did they make him angry as people dared be bold enough to share more than friendly advise in less than friendly terms? It did me. I became angry to vindicate the man I have never met. How dare they not listen to the heart of what he is saying. This is his place to share and speak what he will, it is not their place to judge those words. Then a thought occurred to me. It stopped me dead in my tracts. The thought was this, perhaps he writes the way he does to get the reactions that he got. He does not write to please himself though it does satisfy a creative outlet I am sure. He writes to connect. He writes to inspire. He writes so that others are prodded to write and feel as well. It turned everything on its head.

Now bear with me. I am assuming a great deal about someone I have never had the pleasure of looking in the eye. Yet he has shared much of his heart in his blogging. He has been vulnerable when others would have simply kept silent. So Adam if I am wrong I apologize now. However, if I am correct in my guess let me continue.

We each were created with a passion. Some of us have more passions than you can shake a stick at. Others cling tightly to one passion that consumes all that they are. To each his own. These passions are placed in the depths of our souls waiting for the day when they can push through the dark soil of our hearts and bloom and grow. Adam often makes his passion clear. And through his passion he affects millions, which is the point. If I free myself to speak, then I in turn free others to do the same. Pouring out one's soul has little to do with gaining approval and everything to do with connection. It is through looking at others that we find ourselves. It is when I am left alone that I am lost. As I read I realized that I was putting my own spin on the words that glowed on my screen. I was upset at this injustice that I witnessed but was also guilty of the same crime. However, guilt has been absolved. My prayer changed. It went from one of how do I help people get it. To Lord let them see themselves in what they write, in how they respond. Send someone to meet them where the are at the heart of their hurt and bring healing and hope.

So I end my night encouraged and inspired. My writing may not be as witty or alluring as some. But then I would be missing the point. I would be attempting to be someone I am not. It is through pouring at my heart in carefully pecked out words that I can make the most impact. So here is to you my fellow writers and to you those who pushed through my endless ramblings. I hope you find something here. I pray you realize you have more than enough to offer and that you are strong enough to share yourself. I pray that you have the strength to be a mirror for the world and will have compassion with the world bucks back because they do not like what they see.

For those of you who have never read Adam Young's prose. I encourage you to do so here: http://owlcityblog.com/