I've spent a lot of my life striving to be better, different, unique, excellent.
Some days I think I peaked in grade 8, when I won the citizenship, academic proficiency, and language arts awards at graduation.
I won a handful of music awards in high school, but, they kinda had to give me something, I was part of so many choirs and ensembles.
Then university, and the awards ceased. There are a lot of spectacular over-achievers out there. I had to become content with the As, knowing I'd done my best, but that other's bests were better.
And then I graduated, and got out of that system of constantly being measured, and realized that not much of it mattered.
But I still wanted to be special, and different, and respected, and valued for my unique awesomeness.
(which may or may not really exist)
And let's be honest, that's a big part of what this blogging thing is all about.
It's all, "look at me in my genuineness and sincerity and see how I'm maybe just a little bit unique and cool."
Not that I try to be things I'm not, that's just it - it's just showing a peak at what really goes on, in my home, in my head, in my heart.
And when it all comes down to it, sure feels good when people say they pay attention.
Feels even better when they like what they read - me.
And then, life gets the best of me, and I'm way too busy to blog anyway, even though it's one of the things I like most, and one of the things I'd most like to do and define myself by.
I dream about spending time designing a lovely site, and having faithful readers, and taking time to craft lovely words, and maybe even making a bit of money at it.
And it turns out I'm mediocre even at this.
Just like I am at that resolution thing.
And most things.
And the most important things.
I haven't prayed in eons.
I was trying to memorize scripture, but that fell by the wayside with this new busy schedule, around the same time mornings felt hard and that hop out of bed at 6am thing turned into a few extra snooze slaps followed by a mad dash out the door.
I feel like I have nothing to offer anyone - and I probably don't, seeing as I haven't allowed myself to be filled by the bounty that is offered by the only one who can fill me, the only one who's overflow can do anyone else any good.
And so, here I am.
Typing my selfish reflections to a wee audience.
Hoping for a bit of attention, some sort of response.
When really, I should be bringing them into the Light.
To the One who will always give me an audience.
To the One who will shape me and mold me into something beautiful.
And not you.