When I stop to think about the work I do, whether in the various venues I write or in my own home, it’s hard to stop from being paralyzed.
Who am I to give anyone advice about Christianity?
Who am I to be entrusted with the souls of these children and the responsibility of parenthood?
I’m not the first one to feel this way, I know. But when I’m in this mindset I feel so alone. It’s not hard to convince myself that I will fail (reference those past failures), that I will screw things up royally (reference past ventures), that I’m in no way worthy of these great tasks (reference checkered past).
I need to look no farther than Mary.