if I am to be a writer, may the words pour like blood from an open wound.
if I am to be a fighter, may my fists connect with all the power of thunder’s earth-shattering boom.
if I am to be a lover, may feelings of passion and joy begin with the love I have for myself before I give them to anyone else.
if I am to be a feeler, may I not fear the pains of life, but embrace the broken colors it adds to the stained glass masterpiece being made before me.
if I am to be a doer, may the discipline and diligence I display move others to push the mountains in their path out of the way.
if I am to be a hearer, may my ears be opened to all sides of the story, letting discernment guide my responses not for me, but for His glory.
if I am to be a human, may the actions of my hands and the words from my lips be life-giving and nurturing, withholding nothing from those others would deem “unfit,” and may everything that I do be nothing but a shadow of the hope that will be brought when Hope returns to view.
It is clearer to me now that it is not always wrong to see yourself in view. And I mean to be viewed. There is something in us all that is wondering if we were made for the limelight, and there is something in us that wants to taste it, if just for a moment.
For the longest time, I told myself I wasn’t worthy, that it would be wrong because the focus did not need to be on me. What I see now is, it is not that I am unworthy of the limelight, but that my worthiness is measured by something so much greater than the limelightContinue reading “no. 61 // limelight identities”
They sit upon the rock wall, shadows dancing at their feet. The strangers have stories, unique perceptions etched into their features.
The passing cars cause a multi-colored blur as I sneak glances at them.
One smokes a cigarette, legs crossed and hand in her pocket. Bags rest at her feet as she waits for the next bus that will take her to town. I see her strike up a conversation with the man next to her, hunched over his phone.