I know that I am supposed to love my fellow man. But it’s not like I always do, I’m not even close, not even a little bit, and I really mean that, I’m not just trying to be modest and relatable while at the same time secretly believing in my own moral superiority. I certainly don’t always wish the best for everyone or pray for my enemies all the time. In a world filled with strife, misunderstanding, indifference, and isolation, it is understandable why we often don’t feel the most pure goodwill toward our neighbor.
But every once in a while, there are moments of understanding. Like today, in college, I had the privilege of talking to a few people. I know, actually talking to people, crazy, right? In an average day, I only really talk to one person. I met someone who is graduating soon, who is also a commuter and feels isolated from campus life. But at least she is graduating, so I guess it’s good for her.
And I met someone else who is also struggling with reconciling her artistic side with wanting to make a decent living.
And through reading, through listening, living- I feel like I am not alone. I feel like my crucibles, no matter how embarrassing or ugly, are not unique to me. I feel like there is hope for all of us to unite in Christ, and all we need to do is take up the challenge.
And I need to forgive myself. I need to remind myself that I will not get to heaven through my works anyway, so it is okay if I am not perfect, as long as the love of perfection is there, and as long as my heart is not [completely] filled with evil and self interest, but with gratitude towards God. People have been wondering for centuries about the true meaning of life (and the true meaning of Christmas, on a microscopic leve), but right there, that is where the true meaning of life begins.
And as a side note, I want to thank my 100 followers and anyone else who has found themselves reading my stuff. You don’t know how encouraging it is to me that people actually read this blog filled with my disjointed and repetitive thoughts.