"Love the calling you have, not the one you wish you had."
Pastor Dharius Daniels dropped this line on me Friday morning and it convicted me because I still wonder what it would be like if I were still playing ball. I think about college, games I could've played better, running through alternate scenarios in my mind. A past that needs to stay the past but keeps resurrecting when I see friends furthering their careers overseas.
Although I still love the game maybe it wasn't my purpose to fulfill my personal dreams on the basketball court. Now that I've moved past that phase in my life it's on to my true calling, and I believe my experiences are shaping me for it. Instead of focusing on what could have been I need to find assurance and comfort on what lies before me.
Besides the potential for the path that God has for me is exponential. With writing, poetry, podcasting, and who knows what else he will reveal to me. It's a different type of grind, a hustle that I'm unaccustomed to but am starting to get a grasp of. I had big dreams of finishing my book and short story series before 30 but I'm realizing how unrealistic the goal was.
I learned how much went into the background of putting a book together and ascertained how much groundwork was imperative. For some reason, I feel like I'm behind the times because I haven't released anything yet. It's arguable that a lot of people my age that have released books haven't written a novel. Which I believe is more in depth than leadership or biography literature would be.
I could be wrong though.
Pastor Daniels finished the thought by exclaiming that if we accept our calling, we will receive things we didn't even ask for. In the Bible it says more than we can ask or think, isn't that amazing. He also says that His thoughts and ways are higher than ours. Maybe what I thought was the best for me, a career in professional basketball, might not have been the best route to reach the purpose that's been laid.
More than we can even imagine.
Amara started saying her numbers this week and sometimes I hear her singing her ABC's. My first thought was which parent is responsible for teaching her, I know that we both take the time to try to get her to learn the necessities. As I pondered, I started to hear Cocomelon sing the numbers again and Amara was following along. At this moment, I realized how useful technology can be.
I'm always worried that I'm allowing her to watch her tablet for too long or often. Am I damaging her eyes or melting her brain? Questions I ask myself as I think about ripping the addictive slab of intricate electronics away from her. I've always known the potential that technology has, but I think this weekend I became more comfortable with it and my daughter's.
Speaking of, I was supposed to get Amelia this weekend as well, but the snow dismantled my plans. The worst part about it is that her mother wasn't being amicable when I requested we meet the following weekend instead. She told me to meet her Saturday of this past weekend or the next time I'm scheduled to get her. I know that I said I won't hold any grudges or malice against her anymore, but she doesn't make it easy.
Amara loved the snow though! She had a blast speaking her baby language and strolling the entire neighborhood. If she thought I was taking her back inside she would fuss, if I did anything other than what she wanted, she wasn't happy. Saturday was colder than Sunday and we were out there for about an hour. My fingertips and toes were cold from all the snow, but it seemingly didn't affect Amara.
I was worried about her getting sick due to her sliding down hills. I thought her wet clothes would seep through her pores and cause her to cough and sniffle. That's the last thing I want for my baby, it seems like she gets some type of cold every other week. If it wasn't for a mixture of me being cold, her getting wet, and my stomach rumbling we would've stayed outside longer.
Creating memories like the ones Amara and I did this past weekend is the epitome of fatherhood to me. Not just the snow, but the experience, the memories that will last forever. Memories that make me feel like an adequate father. Although I doubt Amara will remember, I will.
Last week Amelia called me to show me her new hair, which filled me with joy! I loved that she thought of me, she thought of her daddy. I'm not sure she'll remember, but the way I hyped her up made her feel great. I could tell by her body language and facial expressions, she loved what I was saying. I just hope that the sentiment behind my words and actions burns in my daughter's minds forever.
Amelia and Amara, daddy loves you.