I’ve been trying my whole life to be the best version of myself. To make people happy. To make a difference. To be significant on this earth. But still this phrase finds me convicted. I have given it my all time and time again, always. But it hasn’t been for His highest (holiest) vision for and version of my life. It feels like the promise, as real as His presence, is slipping through my fingers. And I feel myself starting to panic. I feel myself starting to reach for the bootstraps by which I have pulled myself up many times. I feel myself losing the lessons I have learned and wanting to satisfy the hunger of my perfectionism by leaping into action, any action that will numb the fear of failure. But work isn’t enough, not nearly enough. And it’s hard not to work hard. But it’s important.
