The Answer Might Be Yes

I always wonder if I’m making a difference. If anything I say or do matters at all. If I leave any sort of lasting impression. If the fact that I was and am and live and breathe and act out of those things has any impact on the world around me.

Some days I try desperately to be that person.

That person...you know the one.

The one who says the right thing at the right time. Who hugs when it’s needed most. Who listens intently. Who doesn’t talk too much. Who doesn’t mess up. Who knows what’s going on. Who acts unconditionally out of love.

That one.

And for all of my trying, which isn’t necessarily bad, I never measure up.

Because it’s not me. Because I try so desperately to match up to a standard I have self-created around what I believe the world has set for me. Because I can never always say the right thing or act in the right way. Because for as much as I try, I so often lack the love needed to sustain.

And yet, often, I’m myself. And I don’t try. I just am.

I do what comes naturally. I say what comes to mind. I listen when I’m interested and some times when I’m not. And, when I long to be held sometimes I reach out and hug someone...because maybe they need to be held as well.

I’m not anything special and I don’t do anything stupendous. And I’m sure my lack of glamour and missing precision leaves me missing the mark on the world I want to impact.

But, sometimes, I’m me.

And, apparently, me makes a difference.

I never thought I would hear the day to have someone I’ve never met say “Oh! You’re Anika! I’ve heard a lot about you. I've been wanting to meet you. 'So and So'...I’m pretty sure she’s your biggest fan.” The person referenced is someone I know and appreciate but barely hold a conversation with once a semester.

I never thought I would have to question a kid who claims things I told him weeks ago get him through life on a daily basis and realize things about himself he never knew true. “I appreciate you so much Anika I really do” he wrote me. And I sat speechless.

Apparently being me has made a difference. For as hard is it is for me to grasp, to take hold of, to claim, I have little “Anika Fan Clubs” started around because somehow, despite myself I’ve make an impact.

This blows my mind.

Baffles me.

Humbles me.

And makes me beg God for the strength and the courage to further match myself up to Him because the world is watching.

I always wonder if I’m making a difference. If anything I say or do matters at all. If I leave any sort of lasting impression. If the fact that I was and am and live and breathe and act out of those things has any impact on the world around me.

The scary part is that the answer might just be “yes”...