i’m sitting here in my palatial suite at the hyatt in sacramento (when we have conventions, the hotels give us a handful of free suites — no youth worker is paying for this thing), one floor above ahnold schwarzenegger’s suite. 3400 youth workers will show up today for a convention. and i’m heavy with the thought, how the heck did i get here? how is it possible that i am the president of this thing?
i’m so imperfect
i’m so insecure
i’m such a poser sometimes
such a wannabe
i’m fumbling my way through this job
there are others who would do it better than i
i don’t deny that god has given me some gifts
i don’t deny, for a second, that every single life experience, especially the jobs i’ve had and the good and bad lessons i’ve learned, have been god’s careful orchestration and preparation for today
and for tomorrow
and for monday when i speak in the general session
and for whatever comes next year
i’m confident in god
and the weird thing is
god seems, for some reason beyond my grasp
to be confident in me
how twisted is that?
i suppose if it were logical (sorry, mr. spock), it wouldn’t be much fun
and if it were logical, i wouldn’t be here
and i think i like being here
they’re my buddies as i leave my room this morning.
how did this happen? god, remind me again?