Regrets.

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The elections are over, Obama gets to sit on Clint Eastwood’s empty chair. Thanksgiving is almost here, but we won’t waste money on a turkey this year. It’s almost time for our Honduras medical mission trip, I’m thinking hot and humid in the East Coast chill. And however slow it may seem, Christmas this year I’m sure won’t be late.

I have writing projects to complete so I had to cancel coffee dates and volunteer hours. I hated doing that, but I also love the challenge of a blank screen. I have deadlines to beat and laundry piles to iron. I have friends to call and a few names to forgive. Most of all, I have pages to read and thoughts to process. My plate is full and I feel needed.

I am busy, but not too busy to stop and wonder if I have finally walked into that long awaited “God’s will” for my life. You know, that calling we Christians wait for all our lives, that thing that has us stuck in a rut because we’re not sure where God wants us to go. That excuse we have when people ask us what our dreams are: “I’m waiting for God to reveal His will for my life, His best.”

Only, I’m not sure that’s how it works. I have a feeling all God wants is for us to follow His Son’s example of walking intimately with Him and living that out by serving the needy. I’m not sure that all of us have every chapter in our story written out, ready to appear as writings on the wall.

I’m working on my second book. It’ll be mostly stories. Working on the outline was quite the experience. I’ve had good chapters, I’ve had great chapters. I’ve had sad chapters, and I’ve had ones that I did not want to read again. But mostly I had long stretches with nothing happening, all because I was twiddling my thumbs instead of making something happen. What I hate most is the regret I feel over those lost months. They don’t even fill a paragraph in my life story, yet they ate up huge chunks of my time.

Regrets, they’re nothing new. I wish it wasn’t so.

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