Not two years ago,
I wanted to die.
I wasn’t suicidal.
I wasn’t angry.
I wasn’t depressed
I was just… done.

At 63 or 64,
I could find
no purpose for living.

I wasn’t bitter.
I wasn’t broken.
I was simply waiting
waiting to be called home.

So I prayed.
“God, if You have a purpose for me,
then please
let me know.
If not, then let me go
“gently into that good night.”

It wasn’t defiance.
It wasn’t despair.
It was surrender.
And He answered.

Not with thunder.
Not with spectacle.
But with a quiet commission.

Shape the path.
Light the lanterns.
Begin again.
And so I did.

I began crafting The Ordinary Path—
not as a project,
but as a pilgrimage.
Not to be seen,
but to serve.
Not to prove anything,
but to remain faithful.

I still feel overwhelmed.
I still wonder
whether I’m enough.
But this I know:
This is not the time to quit.

Because the light is costly.
And someone needs to see it.
And if I may be counted
among the least in God’s kingdom—
if I may take the lowest place,
the quiet place,
the servant’s place—
then let me do so with joy.

Let me carry the lantern,
not to be admired,
but to help others find the way.

May these words be a lantern.
May this path be a sanctuary.
And may the least among us
walk it with joy.

The Ordinary Path
is lit
for those who seek mercy,
memory,
and meaning.

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Your presence is never demanded,
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If this offering stirred something in you—
a memory,
a question,
a flicker of light—
you are welcome to share
your reflection below.
No need for eloquence.
No need for certainty.
Just a lantern,
gently placed.