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I recently had a dear friend share with me that she’s having to come to grips with being mediocre. I could relate. Who hasn’t wondered at one time or another if they matter, if their life is worth a hill of beans, and if anything they do or have ever done has made a difference?

When my precious daughter Lindsey died, her sister gave me a pendant with a semicolon on it.  It came with an explanation: when a writer uses a semicolon, she wants you to keep going because there is more to come.

I once heard an old guy quip, “I hardly sin any more; I don’t have the energy for it.” Now that I’m his age, I say to the old guy, “Honey, I find that aging is like having someone pour Miracle Grow on my sin.”

Over the years, our precious Father has patiently shown me the joy of saying “yes” to him. I am sorry to confess that more often than I care to admit, my yeses often came after a long, resistant, stubborn wrestling match with the Spirit.

Many years ago when I was involved in a home Bible study, one of the attendees had a past that I had only ever encountered on the written page. She appeared to be a “tough customer,” caustic and hostile.