It’s been almost 30 years since I figured out — much to my surprise — that what I really wanted more than anything else vocationally was to be an artist. And I’ve spent most of the years since then explaining to myself over and over why this isn’t possible.
After enough reasonable explanation, I start getting numb to what I want. I forget what it feels like. I turn my attention elsewhere and tell myself that realistic people do other things. Maybe I can make filmmaking a hobby if I do really well for awhile at something I hate.
Doesn’t that make sense? I can make a few hundred thousand dollars a year as a real estate broker. How about that? Isn’t that more realistic? Sure. Why not. I’ll do that. It all makes so much sense. And it sounds so responsible.
And so I start burying what I know — every now and then, at least — that I want. Until somebody comes along and pokes a stick at something I try hard not to look at.
That’s what happened today.

We already know what’s right, but we choose our lusts instead
Connection with a child can make routine day feel more meaningful
THE McELROY ZOO: Meet Sam, the baby kitten I stole
Good character matters far more than winning political arguments
Nature struggles to keep alive
What if a state government shut down and no one noticed?
A sincere apology can bring color back when the world looks gray
Goodbye, Molly (2008-2021)
Those of us eager to meet Jesus aren’t eager to depart this world