I Was Here: The Call to Purpose, Passion, and Leaving Your Mark 

Carvings on Desks and the Legacy We Leave Behind 

When we were young and in school, we would often come across carvings etched on wooden desks, chairs, long-dried concrete, or even on trees. They always followed a simple format: 

Name. I was here. Year A to Year B. 

That was it. 

Nothing poetic or philosophical—just a name imprinted in time. I did the same, carving mine on my elementary school desk. That was the stage in life where I felt most alive, full of wonder and adventure. I truly lived. 

“Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.” 
— Psalm 90:12 

A Gentle Reminder of Our Mortality 

Just like grass that grows today and withers tomorrow, so is the life of man. 

(Psalm 103:15-16) 

This truth whispers to us daily: Live intentionally. 

For some of us, like me, every action and even every misstep has pointed to a higher force behind the scenes—a divine hand nudging us to live with purpose, to seek truth, to rise with strength, and to serve others. That’s where I’ve found the most meaning. 

There’s a kind of fulfillment that no hedonistic pleasure can offer or sustain. And as I look back now, I’m grateful that even in the fire, God was refining me—giving me a voice to encourage others. I thank Him every day that some of us had to crawl so others may walk. 

The Spirit Behind the Craft 

As I write this, listening to James Malikey’s iconic piano pieces, I feel the spirit behind the rhythm—a simple melody, yet full of soul. It draws you in. You can feel the artist’s emotion, like he’s pouring his soul onto the keys, giving his all. 

We admire people who do that—those who channel their energy, pain, and joy into something meaningful. But before they mastered their craft, they sacrificed comfort and dedicated hours upon hours to their art. 

So the question is no longer “Why do they do it?” but rather “Why wouldn’t we all want to?” 

To have something—a craft, a hobby, a purpose—that turns pain into power is a sacred gift. 

So we must be on to something, don’t you think?

Your Passion Is Your Battle Cry 

We all need an outlet—a passion project, an artistic pursuit, a hobby. Not just for joy, but as a way to release repressed energy, thoughts, and feelings. Unexpressed pain can build up like a loaded gun—if not turned inward, it could be turned outward. 

But your passion becomes a battle cry. It transforms sorrow into beauty, chaos into healing, hopelessness into light. 

When I wrote about needing a passion project, I hoped you’d find something that brings lasting joy—more sustainable than alcohol or fleeting pleasure. Something that fuels your spirit. 

Because without something anchoring us in purpose, life can quickly become unmoored and chaotic. We learn early on that worldly pleasures don’t satisfy for long. Eventually, they leave us hollow, craving more and sometimes spiraling in the process. 

How My Story Began 

I found my battle cry early—when I realized English was my favorite subject in school. I used to read my classmates’ compositions, especially Fatma’s. Her narration skills amazed me. Fatma was brilliant, bold, and beautiful. She had long jet-black hair, and I often helped braid it into a single plait. Though she wasn’t a Christian, she kindly joined us in prayer. 

I remember when a teacher once called her “uncouth” for unapologetically standing up for herself. She cried, but her spirit never broke. I admired that. 

Oh—and yes, Fatma and I secretly had a crush on the same guy. Guess who ended up with him? Yep, Fatma. She went for what she wanted while I was still in my childish phase of thinking boys were “eww!” Today, she’s a surgical doctor. More power to you, Fatma! 

Then there was Hazel, my best friend—gorgeous, smart, and well-loved by everyone. We were in boarding school and top performers, so we shared a special cubicle dorm reserved for achievers. 

I remember when Hazel’s mom was expecting a baby boy—Hazel typed a list of boy names, and we helped pick the final one: Adrian. 
Adrian, wherever you are, I’m basically your godmother—😂. 

And speaking of memories—I didn’t have a passport photo for my wildlife membership card during a school trip, so I used baby Adrian’s photo instead. I stuck it on and told my teacher it was me when I was little. She was so amused she let it slide. Identity theft? Maybe. But in my defense, baby Adrian had a very trustworthy face!❤️

And then there were the kittens—Hazel’s cat gave birth to them on my birthday. So yes, the kittens and I shared a birthday celebration! 

Hazel also introduced me to the Sweet Valley High book series, which started my love for reading.

Photo credits IMDb

My writing wasn’t good back then—I gave up many times. Eventually, Hazel moved to New York after elementary school. I miss her. I still remember when she tried calling to say goodbye while I was shopping at the street market with my mom. 

Hazel, wherever you are—I pray life has been good to you. I hope we meet again. 

When I sit down to write, it feels like quiet communion —like healing woven gently through every word my soul pours. I’m moved by the thought that even if just one heart is lifted, that is enough. And by the time I look up, time has quietly drifted away, and I can lay my head to rest knowing the day didn’t merely pass —I touched something eternal, shifted the unseen and became a vessel for light. 

The God-Spirit Within Us 

God breathed His spirit into us (Genesis 2:7). Scripture tells us that while death can take the body, only God can destroy the soul (Matthew 10:28). That divine breath—that inner spirit—is what calls us to live beyond just surviving. 

When we engage that spirit, we connect with the energy and wisdom that flows from God. We rise with integrity, love, honor, and clarity. 

But when we ignore it, we’re blown in all directions by our whims. We fall deeper into depravity. The Holy Spirit becomes faint, and we’re left with a void—one we try to fill with things that never satisfy. 

Are Your Eyes Still Alive? 

They say the eyes are the window to the soul. 
But what does it mean when someone has soulless eyes? 

What happens when the spirit within dims or disengages completely? 
Is it pain? Is it spiritual disconnection? What do you think? 

Hope in a Dark World 

Even in darkness, there is hope. 

One of my favorite representations of this is Michelangelo’s “The Creation of Adam” on the Sistine Chapel ceiling. Adam’s hand is passive. God’s hand is alive with energy, reaching toward him. Many believe it symbolizes how God is always waiting—ready to breathe life back into us. But He never forces our hand. He values our free will. 

Photo credits by Sistine Chapel.

Even in a world full of injustice, greed, pain, and despair, God remains—waiting to pour His spirit into us again. 

Leave Your Mark. Live Your Purpose. 

When you live with purpose—whether through art, writing, service, love, or passion projects—you carve your name on eternity. 

“Let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.” 
— Matthew 5:16 

In the end, we don’t remember the noise—we remember the lives we touched. We remember the purpose we served. 

So just like we carved our names on those desks in childhood, I’m carving mine—this time, with the help of God’s eternal spirit. 

What about you? 

Song Recommendation: 

🎵 “I Was Here” by Beyoncé — Her powerful, intentional presence in that song has always reminded me of what it means to truly leave a mark. 

Featured image by Lucas Pezeta.

With love, 
Beth