Walking the Walk

I can't remember who or what it was. It could've been my parents. It could've been all the PBS I watched. It could've been all the children's books I read about dreaming, wanting, and doing. It could've been my youth pastor who helped me see that I was meant to serve.

Someone put a fire in me. A fire that makes me want to do more, be more, and not accept the world for what it is. Someone else helped me temper that fire so I could pick my battles, create strategies and execute with grace and precision. It's like one day I just woke up from a haze of floating through life and it began. 

I see problems in my life: the way people are treated, the way that some systems were built, and the fear that hinders people from taking their next step. Dozens of problems, big and small, old and new. Sometimes there's such an overwhelming amount of darkness it feels that it may not be worth it to be a light. I can't help everyone or fix everything. What is the point.

But I want to be a part of a solution. I refuse to feel helpless. Like there is nothing I can do to make change. I don't care if I'm just one person. I want to believe I can do anything. Not because I can but because then I will try. You can't take away my desire to try. Or fail. But at least I tried. 

Sometimes I have to settle with the truth that in the end only my perspective has been changed. I think that counts.

Sometimes I don't want to fight. I don't want to have to be strong for the people who will come after me. I just want to sit and sulk and cry and for things to just be different. But then I see someone else's light because I've surrounded myself with just the right people and they love on me in little ways that aren't always clear to them and just like that the fire is stoked. 

Thank you to all the people who help me be me. I'm doing my best and you know that but you may not understand that with the small ways that you impact my life you enable me to live my life serving others the way you have served me.