Better Late than Never...?

Looking at the younger generation now, I keep pondering these things...What if I had been like them?

What if, in my youth, I had been more proactive in forging friendships that would last? What if I had taken more initiative to invite them out instead of waiting? Would I be stuttering and mumbling my way through conversations presently, then stagger out of it leaving the other person feeling bored and unsatisfied?

What if I had been active in job seeking after my JC and army days instead of lazing around, trying to find my muse for writing at that time? Would I have been more confident? Would I already have a more contemporary wardrobe instead of hand-me-downs and oversized shirts? Would I have been so worried about money right now? Would I always need to find financial blessing amongst my friends, being the pauper always there to just eat and provide entertainment?

What if I had worked much, much harder in my first year? Would I have been struggling now, with my fourth year as doubtful as Manchester United's title chances this season?

(PS: Ironically, I still DO believe they will get it this season. So if they get it, my confidence will skyrocket. If they don't...well, I'll just work harder..)

What if I had been more sociable? What if I had done more to make myself look more presentable? What if I hadn't partially tore my left knee cruciate ligament?

What if? What if? What if....?

So many what ifs. It's still a key issue for me at the moment. I've always been late and most of the time, it isn't intentional. Perhaps the sloth displayed in not finding a job might prove a point for argument, but the severe lack of self-confidence played an important role at that point in time. So great was it that it crippled me completely, leaving me paralyzed in the social realm, causing me to freeze when it came to writing stories, stripping me of my nerves when it came to displaying visual cues to tell others how I was truly feeling then.

It's obviously too darn late to worry about the things past, especially when they are about my own mistakes. What done is done; It's time to move on.

But sometimes, it's that irritating 'done' stuff that throws a banana peel from behind while you were not looking and cause you to slip and fall, like some competitor who is a sore loser and trying to catch up with you. The worse thing is, he STILL tries to trip you up when he caches up temporarily, though ultimately he will fall behind, but you become sore, bruised. You're hurt and it's showing via the slowing down of your increasingly leaden feet and bad injuries.

I can't even count how many bruises there are right now, but when I try to dribble the ball forward and take a shot, the shirt pulling from behind begins and I send the ball into orbit. Sometimes it gets stolen from me instead and I'm left gesturing and glaring like CR9 (though I'm nowhere near his level).

I really want to look forward. In fact, I can proudly say that my King has been helping me in looking forward and I've met some success with that. Unfortunately, when it comes to certain things, the irritating John Terrys or Nemandja Vidics start wanting my shirt from behind.

What if I had been saved and integrated in church long before this? Would I have been more open? Would I have been more amiable? Would I, most importantly, have been more spiritual and be able to do more things for my King and for other believers? Would I have been more effective in evangelism instead of struggling just to maintain a joyful face in campus every single day?

Would I have been able to talk to some people more freely? Would I have been more humorous, more of a social butterfly and allow other people to enjoy my company?

Would I then, stop feeling as though I've so much, so much to catch up on?

I want to know, of course...But it's pointless. One of the important lessons I'm still learning is that my King has a purpose for me. A purpose that required me to be going through all these trials, all these maddening moments where you teeter between self-doubt and godly belief. Where you are the rope in the tug of war between both sides. Where sometimes, it feels as though you're tearing apart...even though you're not.

Sometimes, it might seem like late is always too late. Like I've already missed out on so much fun and wonderful things and friendships.

But I'm still going to try anyway. No pretense. No false intentions.

It's the only good thing I probably have left to offer too, so why not?