He pops in and out of our house during the week. He’s always welcome, always has been since the day he was born.

He talks and I listen.

“One day I want to be able to shred a guitar.”

Evidently shred is a good thing. To be able to completely master playing the instrument.

“I want a career that makes lots of money.”

“I want to be ready to live on my own, but honestly I’m not sure if I’m THAT responsible.”

I sit and listen as he strums background music to the football game. He’s only been playing about a year. Taught himself chords and tabs and strumming. I grin. He’s not even aware of how much better he is today. How his playing has transformed over the last few months.


I’ve been where he is. Wanting to be a better guitar player, better singer, better teacher, better mother, better wife, better follower of Jesus. Wanting… wanting… wanting to be better than I am, to be something other than who I am.

I snap the picture. Sock feet, head down, fingers practicing on my guitar and I let go. Nothing wrong with ambition I guess. Until it takes over and steals your ability to be grateful for what you have, who you are in the moment.

And I give thanks. For this moment, for this kid, for who He is in this season… and who I am too.

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