Just decided to do a little dusting over here, don't mind me...

I look through a gallery of paintings done by a friend and smile. She must feel complete, I decide. What a blessing it must be to do what it is you are created to do.

And so I think. And wonder. And ask. What is it that I have been created to be? Will I know it when I am doing it? Will it come easy and be easy or will I have to work at it to get it just right? Will I be generous or secretive? Will it be all for Him or is it meant to be shared?

It seems like I spend so many moments waiting, watching, hoping...and not enough reflecting, rejoicing, being. I have been given an incredible gift. What is it. What am I doing with it? Has it changed me? Has it changed the way I interact or does my lack of constant perspective cause me to counteract it's supposed powers of freedom...

Thinking. Prayerful. Wonderful God. So many thoughts to be marvelled at. Being romanced, embraced, loved. Just as I am. Really? Now?

Secrets for my heart waiting to be told on His baited breath. Then, a whisper, a heart, a confirmation extends my feeling of faith. But faith is not a feeling. Neither is grace. A moment of clarity is followed by hours of mystified silence. I balance them between my spirit and fist. Remind. Rewind. Entertwine. And then try to mesh two totally opposite arguments together inside my spirit...Collide!

A stride in the right direction. A narrow road.
Vines.
Mines.
Signs.
I grab my blanket and crawl into this. Bliss. Reminisce. A moment so clear. Tomorrow austere. I cling. Sing. Bring. An offering. A heart. To trust His heart.
Dust.
Must.
I thrust my head upon His shoulders.
Combust!
The dream forms notes of fragrant music...from within me.
I cannot control it, but it must not stop. Don't stop now. Show me how. To live. Fully. Yours.
No more scores.
No chores.
Just open doors.
And Your chest of drawers...filled to the brim for me.