Wednesday, July 3, 2013

His Story - My Story

Dear Diary,

Recently I read an article about the deeds of a tattoo artist.

I never thought it would put a tear in my eye.

The reasons for my emotions are two-fold. 
     #1-- His story is a cool one. 
     #2 --I want to have a story like that.

His Story
You wouldn't know it by looking at him but tattoo artist Chris Baker, a well-inked, tough-looking dude ya wouldn't want to meet in a dark alley, actually has a heart for the less fortunate.

A year ago he had an idea: to cover or remove the branding tattoos of former gang members and sex trafficking victims at no charge.  A year since, his idea was so well-received he was invited to attend the US State Department's international meeting on Trafficking Persons.  His idea, coming from a talent he already has, and from a heart that reflects his love of God, has grown bigger than anything he thought possible, and has resulted in his founding of a ministry called Ink 180.

My Story
Chris and I share a love for Jesus and a desire to help the less fortunate.  But that is where the similarities end.  He and I don't share the same talent.  It has taken me decades to figure out what mine are, and I still only have general ideas.  I feel like a "jack of all trades but master of none." 

When I read a success story like this one, my emotions are at play because Chris embodies (tats and all) an ideal I want to live up to:
An everyday gal using her resources and talents she already owns, to share her blessings and somehow provide a better life to others in the name of Jesus.

Don't get me wrong.  I am not going around searching for the meaning of life. 
I like what I do, and I know it is worthwhile. 
And my ministry to my family is foremost and has been full of successes and blessings indeed.
But reading stories like Chris's gives me an itch.  A desire that there is more I could or should be doing.

I believe the most golden ideas are simple ones; ones that use the resources and talents already at hand, like Chris did. 

It is a special person, indeed, that must move mountains to get the job done.  That person I will never become.

Which is why I love reading about the everyday guy or gal who whispers an idea in his basement, only for it to grow into a voluminous shout to the persons who matter.

Idealistically yours,

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