I think it was the fourth grade when Attention Deficit Disorder discovered me. About that time, I realized I could travel anywhere in the universe without restrictions. While this didn't help much in fourth-grade academics, it did allow me to explore the world without leaving my wooden unpadded school chair. Through the gateway of boredom, I stumbled into the wonderful world of daydreams. I could now travel to the moon because I had found "outer space" — a realm beyond the normal, physical, and tangible — indescribable yet explorable.

The other day, I had a FaceTime call with my youngest granddaughter. As soon as I picked up the phone, she excitedly blurted out, "Hey Pop's, I have some stickers that won't stick!" Now, this may sound odd for a four-year-old to say, but in her little mind, it didn't make sense. Stickers are supposed to stick, right? That's the whole point of them! Yet, here she was, puzzled and frustrated because the stickers just wouldn't do their job.

On the canvas of life, amidst the prevailing monotony of gray, there exist moments when splashes of color grace the walls that confine us. These walls of gray are not merely physical barriers but encompass the boundaries imposed by circumstances, the echoes of past failures, the insinuations of a subculture, and the silent expectations of society. They are the subtle whispers of doubt that linger behind the curtains, in the backstage of our minds. These walls represent the mass of inherited limitations and cast an intimidating shadow that babbles - "Here you go again."

My first high school track meet was a mix of excitement and embarrassment, a blend of euphoria and you wish you weren't there. It was the school's first attempt at a track team, and, frankly, the bar to make the team was set low. If you showed up for practice twice in a row, you were in! Our budget—well, what budget? We had second-hand uniforms that looked as tattered and worn as some of the hard-working teachers.

Imagine the scene: a young man named Joseph, engaged to be married, faces an unexpected shock. His fiancée, Mary, is pregnant—but they've never had a sexual relationship. In fact, she insists she's a virgin. At first glance, this story sounds absurd, right? It's the kind of thing you'd expect to hear as gossip, not as the foundation for a relationship. But here's where it gets interesting.

Instead of immediately making a scene or walking away, Joseph decides to quietly break off the engagement, trying to spare Mary the shame and humiliation. But before he can act, something radical happens.

Life often feels like a catacomb of complexity. Decisions, challenges, and uncertainties around every corner make us feel we will die in our quest for answers. The question, “What is God’s will for my life?” can feel daunting, almost like trying to solve an equation with too many variables. However, “God’s will” is often simpler than we think. It’s not about grand revelations with bright lights or complex strategies—sometimes, it’s as simple as giving thanks.