Let go. Let God.

Don't worry about solving the world's problems. You can't control those issues. You don't own that outcome.

God does.

Abide in Him in each moment, an He (not you) will make things right.

Be a friend.
Look on the bright side.
Hug.
Lend a hand.
Smile.

And let God take care of changing the world.


An excerpt from the notebook beside my bed: a jumble of prayers poured out in ink and late night epiphanies. 

Global Child

They say it takes a village
to raise a child,
but it's gonna take the whole world
to raise this girl.

She'll love and remember
the ones who run in her blood,
but her family is scattered
across entire continents.

She won't be contained
by men's penciled lines,
not by borders or fences,
not by rivers wide.

For a compass, her heart.
For a path, her dreams.
She'll circle the globe
on the wings of the wind.

She'll scour every mile
and double back again,
searching for answers to
queries words can't ask.

Yes, she'll spend her whole life
loving this entire earth.
Finding warm smiles
and open minds,

until her bones are full
of a planet's wisdom,
and her face crisscrossed
by the laugh lines of many.

So don't be afraid
when your daughter's gaze
settles not on the horizon
but the wonders beyond.

Oh she'll come back
to where it all began,
and on her way
she'll be raised by the world.

Then, some day,
in her little girl's eyes
she'll catch a glimpse of a spark
that won't be quenched.

She'll see tiny hands
dance over maps and globes,
answer questions like
"What's at the end of the road?"

It's then she'll see it takes a village
to raise a child,
but it's gonna take the whole world
to raise this girl.

If I were a shoe...

This essay was in response to a prompt on a scholarship application. It was called a haiku essay - 100 words or less. It was possibly the most challenging, but also the most fun essay I have had to write. So, what kind of shoe would you be?

If I were a shoe, I’d mold to your footprint, because I’d listen to your needs and care for you. Whenever you put me on, you’d be ready for adventure, because I’d rather be active than stagnant. Even so, I can’t guarantee that I wouldn’t smell stagnant - not all of me is rosy.

I’d be covered in dust from far places, but there would also be clean spots to accumulate dirt from the many places I hope to go. If I were a shoe, you’d keep me around for a while, because my best years are yet to come.