My arms are not long enough to wrap around it all...
But I need to pull it close. All of it.
And then look at it, assess it, count it. Organize it. File. Color code. Label.
Whatever it might take to understand.
I would sit on the floor, legs crossed, with a cup of coffee and I would put it all together like a puzzle.
Because, today, I am having a hard time seeing.
Not just the big picture.
I know better than to think I would ever get a good look at that....
Simply, a pattern.
Perhaps, dare I even dream....
Because, you see, "broad" is not working for me.
General ideas just don't cut it anymore.
I am cursed by cynicism.
When did I lose the childlike quality of being a dreamer?
I wonder when my aspirations became tied down with logistics...
like a balloon tied to a bag of rocks.
The dreams are there. Believe me. My mind is boggled with them.
In my head, I am bold.
When I'm driving down the road, windshield wipers smacking, headlights beaming -
I am brave then.
And I am capable of anything. Anything and everything.
I am a problem solver. I like steps. Recipes. Directions. How-to guides.
Vague does not work well for me...
And when an area of gray presents itself, I balk. Cower a little bit, crawl back in my shell.
The world, after all, is a big scary place.
I am just a woman. One woman.
I am weak. And not that smart.
And I have absolutely no clue what is going on.
So days like these, I wish I could wrap my arms around all my ideas and dreams and talents and obligations and deadlines and bills and every aspect of my hectic schedule.
Just to try and make sense of it all.
Because in the back of my head...
or the forefront of my heart...
in the recesses, the secret places, of myself...
I know a truth.
How to find answers.
I know the cause of some of my confusion is physical clutter.
I know most of it is emotional clutter.
There's a dam holding in all my tears.
I have words that are bottled up that I desperately want to share with you.
I have a seven hour car ride scheduled on Friday. My first road trip by myself.
And I wonder if the Father will meet me there... in the solitude.
On the long stretch of highway.
Because I have some questions.
And I want Him to untie the rocks from my balloon.