Field of Dreams

            I used to walk around feeling entitled. As if the world—no, not the world but ultimately God—owed me something. That fame and fortune were there for the taking because—because I was me and I deserved it.
            Of course, I didn’t know I carried this rock of entitlement in a backpack. But this heavy, hard load brought on a lot of discontent and frustration and envy and comparision on a daily basis.
            In almost five years, I’ve managed to chip away at that bugger, day after day.            
            Yeah, I have moments. I have pity parties. I have doubts and moments of distress. But for the most part, that backpack is full of tiny shards of the giant stone.
            Sometimes voices whisper in my ear, wondering why this didn’t happen, or why some book wasn’t more successful, or why this opportunity didn’t pan out. I step away and try to drown the voices out with the reality I see daily. These blessings I’ve had along the journey.
            The people I’ve come across. People who have inspired and motivated and ministered to me. People who I would have never gotten to know if it hadn’t been for the work we were doing.
            The readers who have shared stories and comments with me. Stories and encouraging words I’ve often quickly buried simply due to insecurities. They’ve kept me going through some rough times.
            Ultimately the blessings of scenes in stories that were written more for me than anybody else. The man taking one last canoe ride with his father. A teenager on a train in Chicago crying out for help. A father in a hospital awaiting the biggest moment of his life and asking God to be there one more time. An athlete sitting in an abandoned barn wondering what to do with his broken life.
            Mirrors. All of them.
            There’s a field of flowers somewhere where the sky opens up and shines on them. I’m thinking of this field now with fondness. It’s a place I’ve visited and dearly love. Without these stories and these years, I would have never arrived at that place. I would never have found it. I would keep passing it by, day after day, searching in vain.
            I don’t think we’re entitled to anything in this life. But God’s grace is to give us what we need. And usually then some.
            I have a lot of then some. A lot.
            I’ve got other backpacks I carry and always will. So be it. I’ll keep chipping away at those stones as well.
            But I’ll do so knowing I’ve got a lot of help, and support, and encouragement, and grace.
            I’m going to revisit that field again very soon. And I’m going to enjoy going there.
            It’s a pretty cool place. One I know you’d like.
            One I hope you get to visit someday soon. 

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