Once upon a time I had an identity.  I do not know exactly when I lost it.  I only know that one day I reached into my pocket and it was gone. Just like that.

I did not panic (surprisingly).  Nor did I cry. In fact, I did not even try to search for it.  Instead, I sat. Right here. Where I still sit today.

And I thought.  Over and over. Quite obsessively really. Of that identity. My identity.

As I sat and thought, I watched all the other identities passing by.  Some older, some younger, some close in age, some dead and others quite alive.  Some short, some taller, some just my height and build, and some precariously smaller.   Yet not the same at all.

Many may wonder why I did not simply find a new identity, as others often do.  My reply is simple: because it was mine; because I didn't know who I was without it; because I believed it to be essential to my existence.

A funny thing happened as I sat thinking and watching.  I began, over time, to forget my identity and what made it so special and pertinent to me.  Gradually as I began to further forget, I found  I was not sad, not angry, not resentful, not lost.

I began to just be. Me.

I realized over more time, that I am more than my identity; that I am special; that I am not lost; that I can still dream; that I can still laugh; that I can still love; that I can still grow.

I let my identity go, and along with it, I set my old dreams free and embarked on a journey to discover new ones. Ones that are better suited for just me.

And in the midst of this recovery, I discovered that just me is my identity. That I am just as God intended me to be. {Identity crisis--crisis Averted}.

Until next time, I hope you remember: "You are not just a drop in the ocean, you are the entire ocean in a drop." ~ Rumi. 


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