There once was a time when I still believed that I would be a somebody who called the shots, controlled things, influenced the destiny of the world. My little brother’s death should have put an end to it, but somehow, it didn’t. I wasn’t sure where I got my special powers from when I stopped believing God had much of anything to do with me, but I was still certain that I was more special than most everyone else.
I feel very small tonight. I am powerless. The world is not my world. I am not the world’s. Those who belong in it are made of something else. I don’t know if I ever fully resolved whether God wanted to take me back, but I have hope that he does. My hope doesn’t ever completely go away, so maybe that’s a gift from God.