Sometimes, when I'm able to silence me, I'm amazed that I'm living my life. I don't mean that in an "oh-my-God-I-just-won-the-lottery" kind of way -- I mean it in an "oh-my-God-what-have-I-done-with-28-years" kind of way. How is it possible to have existed this long and accomplished so little? How is it possible to have encountered so much and learned so little? How is it possible to have been given so much and done nothing with it?
I look back with dripping regret.
I look forward with frozen trepidation.
Of course, I'm using the wrong measuring sticks -- I always am -- and relying on the wrong ignition to start my engine each morning.
Grace is often an unbearable burden to me, and this reflects my deep immaturity.
I earnestly hope that one day, I'll be able to sit in those fleeting moments of true silence and just smile, because I'll be appropriately amazed that I'm living my life.
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