S ometimes, I start to wish I could just keep the laughs coming like the Pioneer Woman. She takes beautiful pictures and has great style and will soon have her own cooking show and she is just a hoot!

I am not that funny.


I also wish I could creatively create like the Nester, or make adorable out of nothing at all like Ashley at the Handmade Home.

I wish I had the skills to encourage like the Gypsy Mama — she bravely calls people to pour their hearts and their gifts out without fear.

And it would be great if I could also keep it real like Kristen — her humility and honesty are something I generally prefer to shy away from.

Or if I could just create a space for souls to breathe like Emily, with well put, encouraging words and artful and interesting grammar choices, I suppose that’d be nice, too.

But I suppose if I could only choose one option, I’d want to be a weaver of words like Ann. Her words create a holy experience for me when I open my little Google Reader and swim through her posts. I want to take off my shoes.

Sometimes I find myself slipping into thinking this way — reading something I’ve written and subsconsciously thinking, how could it be more Pioneery? Or Emily-eqsue? Or Annish?

And it takes me a while to remember that if this is multiple choice, I am G, none of the above. And that’s good. And I remember that when you start trying to wear the wrong shoes you are often in for trouble. Try as I might to trod a road in someone else’s sassy ballet flats, I would be much better off walking my road, the way I was created to walk it. Probably wearing flip-flops.

I think we all sometimes long for someone else’s something.

So I wonder if you also need reminding:

You’ve got a gift.

You’re not second string, or B team, {as i realise I need to culturally contextualize that little idiom}.

And it would be better for all of us if you were a first-rate you than a second-string anybody else. Your purpose and the reason you were created is a part of the bigger story that no one else can live.

Let’s remember to celebrate each other — and even to celebrate ourselves. You were made for a great purpose and redeemed at a great cost. You have incalculable value.

In light of eternity, we are all incredibly small. But small acts with great kindness can change the world. And the only one who can do your acts is you.