I love life. I really like living. One of the main reasons is that, as a child, my parents helped me understand that a life devoted to God would not only give meaning to life, but would take me through some pretty cool experiences. As I look back at fifty years of memories, I’ve got to acknowledge that they were right.
For most of my life, I’ve tried to stay close to God. I recognized His call in my teens, and I’ve prepared myself to serve. Measuring talent and skill, I fall somewhere in the middle of the pack. I’m not that great, but neither am I all that bad. I’ve learned to give it my best and realize that God takes over from there.
Over the years, my zeal has occasionally been dampened by a quiet conviction that slips in as I read scriptures that talk about sacrifice and suffering. To be honest, I don’t do either of those very well or very often.