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?
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.