Have you ever seen something, met someone or been in a situation that suddenly seemed to make sense of your life?

Occasionally you pause and really think about it — your existence, that is. Its twists and turns seem nonsensical. Its ups and downs feel more exhausting than educational. Its challenges seem anything but character-building.

The compass of your life feels like it’s spinning out of control. It doesn’t stop and point in any particular direction, it just spins.

It’s dizzying, like a teacup at Disneyland, like having one too many glasses of wine, like spinning on a merry-go-round, and like being tossed about in the surf without being able to catch a breath or get your footing.

Then in a split second, it all makes sense.

This is why I’m here.

This is what I was made for.

This is why my life is the way it is.

I often wonder why my life is the way it is. I like it a lot — don’t get me wrong. It’s just not “the norm,” according to society for the most part…not that the norm is necessarily the right way for all.

Mine is a quiet life. I’m recently starting to see its potential, or rather the contribution I could make to the world. I think I’ll get there someday.

I’ve felt for years like the offering plate was being passed in front of me, and all I could give were a few pennies — old, dirty, tarnished pennies…pennies with gum and little bits of paper stuck on them. Now I’m starting to give nickels, even dimes. I can see the day when I’ll be able to give quarters, then when I’ll be able to maybe even give a five dollar bill — or write a check.

This has nothing to do with actual money. It has everything to do with how I’d like to pay back this life, and how I’d like to show my thanks — my gratitude.

I went to a concert last night that reminded me I have a few talents with a thick layer of dust on them. They’re talents that used to give me incredible joy, but I let life take over and forgot to make time for those things that made my heart sing. Last night I saw them again, and I promptly apologized to them for having been shelved as long as they have.

My life is the way it is — quiet, simple, solo — because I’m meant to make time for them. I was reminded of my potential by two strangers — strangers who are now inspirations, and whose own contributions became like a new friend to my spirit.

For them, for clarity, for the order which came to light, I am most thankful.

When the offering plate comes around, what will you give?