Some thoughts from the winter just past:
The night sky's stars were clearly visible--I was compelled to go out in the cold just to look at them, so I enveloped myself in a thick maroon comforter and wandered across the frozen ball field to enjoy the view. Then the obvious yelled in my face: the whole sky couldn't be seen at once--by me.
I felt at that moment like a photographer attempting to capture a vast panorama with a dinky child's camera. I couldn't take the Big Dipper, Little Dipper, and Orion all in one glance. If I wanted to see more than a narrow window of the sparkling display I would be forced to pivot my whole body in order view a different section of the sky. If I flopped onto the frosty grass, possibly gaining myself a broader scope, there would still be expanses hidden. My puny perspective limited me.I left the field feeling disappointed and defeated by my limitation. I was also relieved.
I was relieved to hit the bottom floor of endless questions--to feel the gritty, packed-soil basement of my own inadequacy. The complete picture of life can't be seen all in one snapshot. I can't see the whole story--what God is doing--behind the problems of people I want to help and love. Even my own life can only be seen one image at a time: which at this moment is only the present. And that is okay.
