There’s so much weight in that word.

Calling.

The weight of everything we are made to be.

It’s something I think everyone wrestles with at some point (or multiple points, or daily).

I think I’m more in the daily crowd.

Who am I?  What am I meant to be?  What should I be doing with my life?  My hands?  My gifts?

And that whispered fear {am I failing?}.

Oh, but with a God sovereign over all how can I fail?  He knows what he created me to be.  I’m here to discover His plan and to give Him glory.  And that brings comfort.  No matter what role I dip my toes in.

Yet, still there are so many roles I step into daily.
Wife.
Mother.
Daughter.
Sister.
Photographer.
Writer.
Encourager.
Small-group(s) Leader.
Quilter.
Garment maker.
Painter (at least of walls… very regularly)

It’s those roles that weaken my contentment with my calling to be His.
Those roles that cause the tears to fall when they become more important than savoring the fact that He is Worthy.
Of all the roles.  All the callings.