A Wingless Bird

We are a people easily inspired.

Should we be in the mood for something to encourage or uplift, it seems we need not exert ourselves beyond the click of a button. Pictures, music, clothing, food — it’s all there for our immediate access. In youth, inspiration is somewhat of a capacious, ethereal thing; it changes and morphs as rapidly as we do. Chance encounters, unfortunate circumstances, a generous accolade, a supportive parent — these experiences mold, shape, and respectively define what we consider to be inspirational.

What I find exceptionally grand is how, such as a match beneath brush, inspiration can ignite us, propel us upward and onward, all toward something that was otherwise not thought possible or attainable. Haven’t we all seen how even the unlikeliest of candidates found his or or her way after being “inspired” by a person, place, moment or thing. Truth be told  — and this shall be expanded upon in the dedication of Awakening Foster Kelly — I am only a writer only because my husband called me one first. I was given the name Cara at birth, the name Olsen in marriage, and the name writer by someone who saw something in me I never would have seen myself. True story.

For the most part, however, as we grow older, our successes and failures begin to outline a future; our goals align, usually, with what we are capable of achieving. Depending on what gifts we do or do not possess, our innate predilections, and the resources available to us, we will pursue our goals with alacrity, so long as there is enough reason and justification to do so.

Now, of course, there are those dauntless sorts who see steep snowy peaks as welcome challenge and benighted fathomless depths as great adventure; I am not one of these amalgams, though I am very much inspired by you. Write a blogpost and bring back pictures, please. Thank you.

I was inspired by something — or rather, I should say someone — this morning. But before I introduce you to a man you might already know of, I thought I would leave you with a few pictures that I imagine many of you, being the impassioned, focused, dedicated people you are, will endorse with pleasure and agreeability. Hopefully.

~ Inspirations’ Children

The Interior Designer:

The Chef:

The World Traveler:

The Organized:

The Runner:

The Writer:

The Photographer:

The Haute Couturier:

While I would never purport to trump one spirited passion above the other, one constancy must abound in every single one; we must decide to actually do something with our inspirations. We must actually write the book, cook the food, run the miles, decorate the homes, take the pictures, and so on and so forth. Yes? If not, what of all that wasted potential?

I want to introduce you to someone, but first a question: have you ever met someone seemingly more alive than most? Have you ever gotten close enough to actually see joy, smell hope, taste honesty, hear courage, and touch love? I have. Many years ago, I actually had the pleasure of encountering and speaking to such a man. His name is Nick Vujicic. I am tempted to depict Nick with my own failing words. And they would fail. For Nick cannot be described; he is not a book, or a song, or a picture, yet he is all of them. Nick lives his life in such a way that makes what the rest of us do look like ungrateful sloths. Not a second is wasted, not a word spoken to further his a vain endeavor. He simply lives the life God gave him. And he is thankful.

Please, take a few moments and meet this incredible man, and listen to his inspirational story. I promise you — and if I am wrong, I will find someone way to indemnify these 7 minutes — you will not be sorry.

I pray for you an inspirational day. Even more, I pray for you the ability to meet that inspiration in an act of courage and trust and love.

Blessings, my friends.

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