What am I made of? Of flesh and bones, skin and marrow? Of rhythmic heartbeats and shallow breaths, and a trillion tiny cells? Yes, but this is only the beginning.
What am I made of? The union of a man and woman? Of the dust of the town where I was born? Of the childhood home so deeply impressed on my mind? Yes, but surely there is more.
What makes me who I am? A million and one little drops of color scattered across a canvas: people, experiences, victories, failings, songs, sicknesses, emotions, joys, and discoveries. They are as a thousand snowflakes which cover the landscape of my soul, a blanket which has the power to excite and to silence, to warm and to take one’s breath away. Individually each experience seems so isolated and sometimes meaningless, yet put together they create something extraordinary: my life, my story, who I am. Some would call this coming together of events coincidence. But to one who believes that he was loved into existence and is held in existence by this same love, this landscape, this melody, this masterpiece, is nothing less than the unique work of the Divine Artist, Playwright, and Father. It is he who carefully arranges each event and person on my path.
It is this intricate web of nature, nurturing, and will, which stretches as far as the eye can see, that makes me who I am.
What makes me who I am? The love of One who organizes the cosmic interactions of the whole universe, yet delights in listening me speak of my daily joys and battles. In his eyes, my heartbeats are just as important as the arrangement of the stars. His love is my beginning and my end, my path and my map, my energy and my rest.
What makes me who I was, who I am, and who I am meant to become? He who loves me and him whom my heart loves.
