contemplations...

Sometimes I feel as if my life is a waste.

I look at my life, and all I see is failure. I see mistakes I’ve made, am making, and mistakes I probably will make. I see where I have fallen without seeing where I’ve picked myself up. I see all the ugliness and wretchedness of what I’ve done and who I’ve been. I see my selfishness, my greed, my indifference. I look at my life and wonder, “How is my presence on this earth a blessing?”

What have I accomplished that is truly worthwhile?
What have I done that has made an impact in our world?
Who have I been to leave behind a cherished legacy?

I want to accomplish something magnificent, but it seems so far out of reach. I want to make an impact in the world, but it seems impossible—making an impact in one person’s life is difficult enough! I want to be remembered as someone special, someone unique… but how different am I from most people in our world?

I wish I were so much different.
I wish I could make a difference.
I wish I could do something to make an impact.
I wish people would know my name and cherish it like gold.
(Is this just my own selfishness? Or my own grasp for meaning?)

I can’t help but looking at the past two years of my life. So much has changed. I’m not who I was before. I feel stuck in a rut, unable to escape. Yet in my heart there is a burning desire to be different. A “difference” not so much in actions or ideas or anything of that nature, but a difference in the core of my being. I want to be remembered as someone who was passionate, sincere, caring, compassionate, loving, tender, kind, yet someone not afraid to speak the truth and unafraid to be himself.

“But who am I?”
Sometimes I wonder if I even know who I am.
I know my quirks, my downfalls, my strengths and weaknesses.
But who am I really, under the skin?
Who am I? Who was I? Who have I become?
Who will I become?

I have an image of myself. It is an image where I am standing behind a pulpit, speaking passionately, so passionate that tears stream down my face. I see people coming from all around to just hear me speak. I see people speaking of my love, my care, my devotion, my warm and welcoming heart. Yet above all, I see a quaint, yellow-painted cottage, with a walk-around porch and a hanging garden. I see a swing on the porch, and on that swing, I sit with my wife, my arm wrapped around her. We drink cold lemonade and watch our children play in the yard, the sun gently setting, its dying light caressing our faces as we smile at one another and kiss.

That is who I want to become. That is who I want to be.

Come to think of it... my life doesn't have to be a waste, after all.