She inches her way to the back of the kickball line. The fastest boy in the class jogs up, sweating and grinning after another easy homer.
She shakes her head generously. "It's okay! You can skip me."
Eyes wide, he jumps ahead before she changes her mind.
She sighs with relief, thankful he didn't give her any grief that would attract the PE teacher's glance and require her to move forward to take her turn at home plate.
The bell rings and she grins. One more PE class unscathed by taunting calls of "Move forward! She's terrible!"
She zips her finger up the screen, passing photo after photo of perfect homes, perfect families, perfect perfection.
Her finger pauses over a friend's story. She considers sharing her own thoughts, wishing she could say something that would help. She winces, imagining taunting whispers as people read her words.
Well SHE must certainly think she knows it all!
Have you seen her ______? She's such a fake.
Who IS she, anyway? And who cares?
She scrolls on. No comment.
She doodles until the pen digs through the paper in that one spot as the pastor's voice mingles with the still, small voice. "Go for it."
She knows she has a gift. She sees the need. She has a passion.
But who am I?
The still, small voice. The gentle reassurance she's His.
But I...I'm inept! I can't do anything!
I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me. Without me ye can do nothing.
But...no one believes in me.
I am the resurrection and the life: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live.
And she looks up. She sees. He is enough.
He is enough. For every crazy, sacred dream I hide and hoard, He is enough. He will complete the good thing He's begun in me. No longer do I need to hide in the back.
She types out a comment she never thought she'd have the guts to share. Even before her friend calls her to talk for hours, she smiles. Surely her pain was meant for such a time as this.
Your turn. What's the scariest dream you've ever attempted? How did God bless your efforts?