When my daughter was still a toddler, I watched one day as she took a pink magic marker and drew a big squiggle on a piece of paper I had given her.  To me, the squiggle looked like a giant S - her first initial.  I was amazed at her ability to accomplish that at such a young age.  I had her draw on paper after paper, making sure that it was not an accident.  It wasn't. 

Being someone who loves to draw and paint, I began to wonder if she might have a gift.  I went out and bought new magic markers and crayons as excited as if it were my own first box.  At following holidays and special occasions, I gave her gifts that would help her explore her artistic side.  I even bought a huge art table, complete with a little lamp that would shed the light she needed to create her masterpieces.

The only problem was:  she didn't want to. 

Not willing to give in so easily, I tried to encourage her in other ways.  We would sit together at the kitchen table and draw as a team.  Well, I would draw while holding her hand and pencil together in mine.  That's the same thing...right? OK, not exactly.  Which is why I often would get frustrated, throw the pencil down and let her move on.

As much as I longed to have a child that shared my passion, she simply was not interested any further than most children her age.  She preferred to cut the hair off of her Barbie dolls and dress up with every item hanging in her closet.  The art table was used more often to change baby doll diapers than to channel new art.  And, as it turns out, that squiggle expressed the mainstay of her talent for quite a while.

I hate to admit it, but I was totally disappointed when she was not interested in pursuing my passion.  Not only that, but my feelings were hurt.   A hurt that I couldn't really explain and certainly was not her fault.  But it was there.

Eventually, her true gifts did begin to surface.  Like most things about her, they were nothing like mine.  I realized that nothing I might do could sway her to my way of thinking.  I had to let my hope for an artist go as I let her become who she was meant to be.  It was hard for me to give up that control.

Through the years I've found myself in similar situations with friends and acquaintances.  Over, I'm embarrassed to say:God.  I've seen friends take a mild interest in a conversation we were having and assumed that they needed more information than they ever wanted to hear.  I've given out books that were probably never read.  I've offered up open doors in hopes that someone would come knocking.

The problem was: too often, no one did.

As much as I've sometimes longed for certain people in my life to understand and share my passion for my faith in God, they are not always able to meet me there.  Sometimes they are not ready.  Other times maybe not willing to take a risk at that particular point in life. 

And as much as I hate to admit it, I've been completely disappointed by more than one person who was not interested in pursuing my passion.  Not only that, but my feelings have been hurt.  A hurt that I often can not explain and know that it is not the other persons fault.  Yet it remains.

Recently, another wonderful friend of mine pointed out to me that when it comes to bringing others along in our passion for God, our duty is to be the sower.  To throw some seeds out and then let God do the work of helping them to take root and grow.

As much as we may want to push them in, water them, or even bring a little light overhead if need be, we can't.  And we aren't supposed to.  It is our duty to sow the seed.  That's it.  The rest is up to God in His own time and according to His own perfect will.

Each in their own time.  Each with their own gifts.  People will discover their calling and who calls them on their own.  It is not for us to decide. It is not something that we can control.

The best we can do for them is throw.  Just throw.