Some Days the Dream Seems So Elusive

What am I learning? That I have a long way to go. Possibly further than I have to to travel. Likely, in fact.

I feel I am at a bit of a crossroad. Or is it a dead end? Another cul-de-sac. Kind of like this man my Daddy used to laugh about. How Daddy knew him I don't know, but they were friends. Compared to us this man (let's call him Rich, just for fun) was quite wealthy, which is why it was so odd he was friends with my Daddy. But he related something which Daddy never forgot, and often repeated for us, which is why I still remember it.

Rich was traveling on a train. Back in those days train travel was common. Not like today, where only the most major cities have stations for people. In those days even small towns and villages had stops, and so people traveled by train a lot more frequently.

Well, Rich was on this train and walking from one car to another. He chanced to pass by a compartment where three men were playing poker. Now Rich liked to gamble, so he paused and asked politely if he might join the game. The men all smiled, and one very politely explained that Rich probably couldn't afford to be in the game. Always ready to show how wealthy he was, Rich took out his wallet and slapped down five one hundred dollar bills. He was given a single white chip. Without a word Rich picked up his money and continued on his way.

I feel like that. A lot. In my own little world I can write. Not only that, but I can write well. I can compare myself against people who can't write at all and believe I am a master. And then I read someone else's work and I am humbled. Ashamed for even thinking to myself that I am good at what I do. The truth is, I am a rank amateur, and probably won't be anything more than that.

In the movie, Chariots of Fire, Sam Mussabini tells Harold Abrahams, "You can't put in what God left out."

When God creates us he gives us each abilities. However, even scripture acknowledges that these gifts are not doled out equally. Some get more of one thing, and others more of something else. But we all get something.

Unfortunately, some of us, maybe me, desire abilities we do not have. We can enhance what we have of them, but only so far. A lot of very athletic men and women will never play major league sports. A lot of very nice singers will never stand before large crowds. Many actors and actresses will never play Broadway. Not all piano players will play Carnegie Hall. (How do you get to Carnegie Hall? Practice. Practice. Practice.) And not every story will be told to the world.

Those who do not attain their high goals are not necessarily without talent in that area. Rich was far from poor. He just couldn't afford to play poker with those who were wealthier than himself.

I read what other people are writing and I am tempted to pick up my chip and go home in disgrace for believing I can write as well as they. I don't because, to be honest, I think the story I have to tell is greater than my ability to tell it. It needs to be told. But will it?

Days like today I very much think not.