Am I ambitious?

Am I ambitious enough?

Should I strive to make more money when I have enough?

Should I go to school to get an alphabet of letters behind my name just because?

 Who said I had to be ambitious?

An energy, an emptiness maybe, called me to be ambitious and perfect since I was young.

Embarrassingly I admit, if I was not striving for something greater, I would feel fragmented.

I don’t like to think I wouldn’t be ambitious.

If I am not ambitious am I lazy, immature, short-sighted?

 People say to me in well-meaning tones:

“You’re so pretty, why aren’t you married?”

“You should be making more money.”

“You should buy a house and start a family.”

“You should go back to school, you don’t have a family-you have the time to do it”.

But there is a rebellion that burns in me. That whispers quietly, “It’s not you, it’s them”.

 “But I am ambitious!” I scream on the inside so loud I begin to shake.

Do you know what’s freaking ambitious?

Getting up everyday feeling like I am sinking and choosing to smile. Not faking it, choosing grasp onto gratitude.

Being kind in a cruel world.

Choosing to love when the world has no love to give.

Offering a sensitive heart to those who need rest only to have it torn up, stomped on, and rejected. Doing this again and again.

Staying radically present in a place always jockeying for my attention.

Saying no. Using it as a full sentence.

Creating when I feel broken, when it is selfish, when it yields no tangible fruit.

Chasing after God when it seems illogical. When He’s illogical.

What is ambition really? I’ve only just discovered it.