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I Am Sorry

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

 

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