It has always made me wonder - the fact that your life can be so full of things and people, but still feel lonely and without meaning. I've been building my whole life in the hopes that one day I would be someone, do something. But mostly I feel that I've disappointed myself and the people around me.
I know that the absolute truth should always make us realize that God always has a plan for us beyond our own limited imaginations. Perhaps my life was not meant to have significant meaning in and of itself. Maybe my son or daughter is meant to be someone, to do something. Perhaps the meaning of my life is tied to that of the billions of others who have passed and are passing through this world without really touching the ground with their bare hands to understand truth and pain and life.
The older I grow, the more I come to know that more things inside me are broken than I can fix.