If I, too, could be used...

Sometimes, it hurts to breathe. Not literally, but it’s like every breath I take is a gift and I finally realize it and wonder why I am so blessed to have even one more. I certainly haven’t done anything spectacular to earn more breaths than anyone else. And though lately, I’ve been witness to grief and tragedy and pain, I’ve also seen the power of surviving and making it through another day and I’ve seen the way that God puts the right people in the right lives at just the right time.

This year, I’ve come to terms with the fact that not every marriage really lasts an eternity. I’ve listened to the words of a friend who is wounded so deeply, pulling the knife out would only do more damage. I’ve watched a good friend lose a friend in a car accident and another to disease. I’ve stood by as thousands of people lost their homes and possessions and family members to nature’s wrath. I’ve seen cancer turn a man’s life upside down and then right side up, but I’ve also known the way that the lingering pain is mostly unbearable. Lately, I've dried more tears than in my lifetime and still, I feel like I’m not doing enough. Because I’ve also seen the way that lost, hurting people have relied on their friends and their families and their country for support and strength and for the right words to be said when thing ache too badly. And I want to be like that. I want to learn to love with every ounce of my being. I want to learn to give like my possessions are really not my own and I want to learn be thankful for every breath that I’m blessed with. Mostly, I just want to be used and I want my life to be way more than just about me — because it’s not about me, it never has been and I vow for it never to be.