As a person who has been through 80 years worth of life in 37, I have found that I am often looked at strangely for not curling up in a ball and shot gunning beers all day. No matter how fun that might be, and no matter how tempting it is to do that, I do not. In my short and yet long life, there has been a voice in the back of my head that has told me to just keep going. Sometimes that voice has been muffled. Sometimes I have muffled it. But the still small voice has been persistent in its urging, and in its love. I could say that this voice is the God of my understanding. I could say it is the great spirit in the great beyond or some such. But to me this voice is God. He is the air we breathe. He is who makes us hesitate before crossing a sleepy street, and then a car runs a stop sign. He is who makes us question doing something before we do it that we know is wrong, and reminds us that we don’t have to. He is who makes us nod and say good morning to someone who hasn’t heard those words in the better part of perhaps five years. He is who reminds us to share the blessings we have been given with those who have none. He is who created every bird differently. He is who created humans all differently, but in His image. It is He who challenges us to be the best version of ourselves, and reminds us of His abiding and steadfast love no matter what we do.
I searched for a long while for the purpose of the sadness and hard I have experienced in my life. But my answer, even now, has been to just keep going. To do the footwork. To write words choke full of meaning, and to remind others that the still small voice of God is who loves them best. Thank goodness for that.