Bestow: (v) to confer or present an honor, right, or gift.
I still occasionally laugh at myself for sitting around waiting for “the magic.”
Without offering judgment, I must tell you that it is a common weakness in the human race–believing that talents, gifts, prosperity or even a sunshiny day are bestowed upon us by some force of nature or heavenly Creator who apparently has found us to be particularly cute.
Matter of fact, for years I have sat quietly by and listened to people talk to me about my “God-given talent,” nodding my head–apparently agreeing with their assessment that such opportunity was bestowed on me by the heavens above.
What life has given me is an aptitude–what you might call a set of attributes that just might be conducive to one adventure over another.
But because of the goodness of God, I am completely able to ignore that aptitude and insist on contradicting my natural tendencies and pursuing my own free will.
Or I can pursue it.
But aptitude does me no good unless I bring the right attitude–which can never be bestowed upon me.
No–I choose it or I lose it.
And then, taking the aptitude, or at least my rendition, blending it with a good attitude, I can ascertain my altitude.
How high will I fly?
I’m not sure.
But I know this … the wings won’t be bestowed upon me.