I am sorry, Mom and Dad, that I am not what you expected
I am sorry that I don’t fit the usual child
That my dreams aren’t to have a day-to-day job, or begin the American Dream
I am sorry I may not be what you expected
That I don’t like school
I don’t like wealth
I don’t like man-made material
I don’t like what is so common in today’s age
I am sorry I may not be what you expected
That I don’t feel the desire to work a steady job
To achieve a goal of wealth
To stay in one place
I am sorry I want to go where the wind takes me
To follow my heart, and the Will of God
To live in the dust and dirt of those who are afflicted with pain
To feel what they feel
I am sorry I may not be what you expected
That I would rather sink my feet in the soil of mountains
And smell the sweet lotus flowers, hiding amongst the muddy waters
That I would rather feel the wind blow against my skin
And feast my eyes on the majesty of untouched nature
I am sorry I would rather spend all my earnings to give away
To give to a God that people believe they don’t see
Rather, should I spend it to increase my own wealth?
To get all the cool clothes, jewelry, or perfume?
Dazzle myself in material goods?
To start a life, a family, a home?
For this is what is normal for the world today
And looked down upon to not conform to its standards
I am sorry I would rather travel to the unknown of the world
And feel the heartache of those afflicted in turmoil
Their pain
Their suffering
Their stories
For why should they suffer while I thrive in comfort?
Didn’t our Father tell us to be a light for those in the dark?
To proclaim His name amongst the homeless, widows, and orphans?
To heal those who are faint in heart and spirit?
To have mercy?
To be like Him?
So, Mom and dad,
I am sorry I am not what you expected
I am sorry for my restless heart
I am sorry for rebelling the conformities of the world
But after this letter,
It will be the very last time I say I am sorry for who I am
But rather, I rejoice
I rejoice that God has built me this way
That I am fulfilling my purpose by travelling the world
And giving up all my possessions
That I thrive on the beauty of God
And a simple paper, pen, and Bible
I rejoice that my peace-loving soul desires to be like Jesus
To live with the homeless
To clothe the poor
To feed the hungry
To help the blind see
To show mercy
I rejoice that God gave me the strength to live in heartache
That my life will be out of the ordinary
That I scream, “I will not conform to this world”
For so long, I felt broken because I couldn’t fit in
That I was different
But instead, I am rejoicing
My wealth is spreading His love,
and seeing the smiles of those afflicted in pain
My family are the homeless, the widows, the orphans
My children are going to be each lost child I adopt to come home
And my home?
It is you