celebrating the small things (week 2)

Show me where to go and what steps to take. Make the path known for my life. Grant me wisdom and discernment to decide how to move forward and when to skip to the side. Those words tumble off my lips and flood my mind to any given day. I consider which way I might skip and if now is the time to step out in faith. I concentrate on the dreams I have - dreams that are not ready to become reality - and lose focus on the here and the now.

It usually happens that I think I know. It feels right. Everything is in line, and yes, this is the direction I need to move.

Suddenly the door that was once open is shut, and there is no window to peak through. So much time was spent considering the possibility and what I knew would happen - what I felt should happen - that I didn't stop to think about how it might not happen.

I know this about myself. This need to plan and understand the possibilities I want to have happen. There's always a fear that by wanting something I will make it so it will not happen. By planning, it's almost as if I am guaranteed to have things go completely the opposite direction.

There's always a bit of light, peaking through the bottom of the door like the cold air slinks into our house through the crack between the front door and the wood floors. Sometimes I see the light and move closer to it, feeling the warmth and understanding that there is always a way. Other times I notice only the cold and forget that God is there in those moments too.

I think I know what He has called me to, and then I wonder at the same time. As much as I plan, there is beauty and grace and hope found in all of these unknowns. And there's a choice. Do I step where I think I should step or do I step into the places I fear - the places that are not a guaranteed success?

The idea came to me last week. Similar to ideas I've had before but this time it held a strength it's never held before. Pictures and moments in a time that doesn't quite exist yet outside of my mind. A story to tell that is no one's story and yet so many people's story.

So I listened. I listened and imagined and thought about what it could mean. This story that needs to be told. This story that found me and knocked on my heart and asked to be told.

After I listened, I sat. My fingers danced over the keys and the words poured onto the page. A summary. Descriptions of characters. An outline as bare as possible. And then a hope that had been extinguished by the cold air suddenly gaining strength from the light that slips through the crack under the door.

Do this for yourself. Think about the words you want to say. The experiences you've had. The children who deserve a voice. The people who should know. And then do something about it.

So I am.

As this one door that was once closed now opens back up, I see the possibilities. Not just here at a computer telling a story that came to me. But in other aspects of my life. An understanding of why so many doors have been closed and some never even opened. An acceptance of this life and an excitement at all the places it might lead.

But I know to be careful. To keep my hands open but my eyes shut. I need to feel how to get there and not to walk the paths I think are right but might really be wrong. It's time to trust and to breathe and to allow these moments in time to turn into more than I could have ever dreamed of.

I am just a vessel. This life of mine will be a wisp of smoke so quickly gone. But this story, and any other stories that might come after it, can live on longer.

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