I’m sorry for my sin. A field of fallen arrows lies before me and within. A quiver full of sorrows is the place we all begin with a target set before us. But I’m too weak to pull the string far enough to go the distance. To end the suffering, requires too much resistance. What was I thinking?

I’m sorry again. A field of wildflowers leaves pollen over my skin; I’m sneezing for hours as the battle rages before me, warriors in all their glory, but I’m too tired to lift the sword high enough for fighting. I must leave it to the Lord as I’m worn out from trying. What was I thinking?

You knew what you were doing when you made me how I am, and you don’t ask too much from me, just to do the things I can. I’ll keep growing like the flowers. I’ll keep flying like the arrows. I might be a zero. I might be nobody’s hero, but I am – I am who I am. I’m a part of a plan. And I know that I’ll be used on whatever path I choose. That’s what I’m thinking.