Who was, but is not

On page 539 of my mission copy of Jesus the Christ, written in a tiny pencil scribble along the crease of a mangled dog ear, are the words "promise and do."

On page 358, next to the title As A Little Child, is written "believe believe believe."

On page 612, below "Behold thy mother!" --"promise and love."

On page 443: "my treasure = God. Wife. Children."

Ten years ago, sitting at a makeshift desk balancing precariously on the edge of the equator, a boy wrote secret messages to a stranger who he thought he knew. A boy who wasn't afraid to promise, or do, or believe, or love, or treasure his treasure. A boy who had no idea that his greatest enemy would be his future self. A boy, as I recall, brave enough to face me now with all of my experience and learning and say simply "You don't know. I do."

Shhhh. Listen to the boy who was, but is not, yourself.

PROVIDEnce

The words "I can't imagine," and "that could never happen," appear on nearly every page of my journal. They are always written in reference to something I am begging for in my life. Something I am praying for out of mercy, not worthiness. And even though I pray for it, I tell myself it's impossible. I am wrong every time.