I think the hardest thing ever is realizing you’re not so great.
That might not be hard for some people. I get that we’re all different. We’ve all gone through so many different things, and maybe greatness has never been part of your vocabulary.
It has been mine.
When I was young—I’m talking roughly ten years old—I’d have conversations with Oprah. Not the real Oprah. That would have been pretty weird. Just the imaginary one that lived in my bathroom mirror.
There we go. Much more normal.
I’d have conversations with her on the yellow leather couch in her studio, sitting in front of a live studio audience, recounting how well my latest novel did on the New York Times best sellers’ list.
I was focused at a young age. I knew I’d be a novelist, but I also knew I was going to be a great novelist, a famous one.
I was going to snub my nose at everything that seemed utterly provincial in my childlike mind.
Here’s the thing: you’ve gotten to see how that all played out, and by now you’ve probably figured out Oprah’s nowhere in sight.
It’s hard when you believe the lie in your head. For me, it was if I’m not greater than those around me—if I don’t prove how talented I am on a large scale—then who am I?
What am I?
I know now the truth. I am Christ’s. I’m the vessel He uses to paint pictures with words and to show Himself to a select group of people. I’m His masterpiece, given tools and talents, honing them all these years not for my own pleasure but for His.
The moment I realized this, the moment my life unhinged from the “could have been” and anchored into the “what really is,” things changed.
It only took me thirty-seven years.
So moving forward, this is where I’ll chronicle my journey, searching my past and walking toward my future with God. I’ll be truthful even when it hurts because it truly is the truth that sets us free.
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Ericka Clay 
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