This weekend, I'm going to Target and purchasing a basketball.

Basketball for me personifies every failure, every tear, everything I wish that I would have done but couldn't do by my own strength... it is the epitome of where I have come up short in my life.

It is also one of my greatest loves. A passion that I have pushed away because I don't know how to healthily enjoy the sport or mentally cope with my lack of ability and success.

It is a large part of who I am, and its time for my worlds to merge... it's time for me to get over my fears and insecurities... and nothing speaks fear and failure more than the sound of the ball hitting the asphalt. It is a scar that I need to heal. And, a passion that can definitely have a useful purpose in my life.

So, after three years of refusing to acknowledge the sport... this weekend, I'm spending some time on an outdoor court. Just me, a lovely orange ball, an old pair of overpriced Nikes, and a God powerful enough to bring that sort of healing into my life.