I’m stuck.  I’m torn.  I’m battling a choice.  An unresolved conflict.  A question.  A question of calling.  A question of significance.  A burden.  A gap.  I’m want to fill it.  I’m afraid to fill it.  Tension.

What am I made to do?

What problems do I want to solve with my life?

Questions that beg to be answered. I wrestle with them.  They are elusive. They nag me.  They make me look at my day differently.

My desk feels like a prison.  I’ve become disenchanted.  I’ve lost the fire for what it is that I create.  The domain and subject matter have become stale.  I used to consume it. I loved to read about it.  Apply what I learned. Try new things. It was exciting and new.  It’s become dull and in need of polish.

There is a new fire. It’s immature.  It wants to burn.  The flames need fanning. I must explore it.

The question of calling of problem solving of helping…Is this the place where I am to leave my mark?  The place where I am impacting the next generation?

No regrets.

I don’t have an answer. That’s why there is tension.  The question is good. It needs to remain.  It needs to hang in the balance of the tension.  I must explore it.

I have a hunch. I sense an answer.  It’s not clear. It’s rumbling around in my brain.  The dots need connecting.  The thought needs formulating. The prayers need answering.

At last a clue

My love for what is fading, but my love for who is gaining.