The quiet farmland quilt visible from 30,000 feet in the sky.
The roaring machines that cull the individual cornstalks and wheat plants.
A finished puzzle’s payoff.
A single, mixed up jagged piece.
The majesty of the entire beach.
The minutia of a grain of sand.
An adventure concluded over time.
Each painful step to get there.
Lately, I’ve been noticing the power of BIG things built from smaller things, and how often those smaller things may feel challenging or unremarkable or confusing or damn painful. Maybe it’s because I tend to get fixated on the details of this life, stuck in the weeds on each day’s goodness or fulfillment or mediocrity. God and I always have some fun conversations on this one, but these last few weeks have been different.
Maybe it’s my mental illness or my analytical strength or my “realism” or my desire to squeeze the most out of every moment of my one pass here on earth, but it’s a moment-by-moment, bit-by-bit, one-messy-brushstroke-at-a-time lens I have. And that’s no good.
It’s imperative that we be present with the details. But you see, I’ve been analyzing and evaluating the singular grains of sand and the individual puzzle pieces, all the while failing to see the majesty of the ocean or feel the satisfaction of a completed picture.
I grow discouraged in the hard conversations with my honey, but fail to see that only through those moments are we able to build any foundation worth standing on.
I question God’s goodness when the doctor finds a tumor on my mother’s kidney, but fail to see that by His provision, we were able to get the cancerous “intruder” out of her or that this is the first significant health problem she’s encountered in my lifetime.
I lament my loneliness when I see people around me (and on social media, ugh!) with communities close by, but fail to see how lucky I am to have family members within arm’s reach who love, support, and really know me—not to mention the love I have from my guy and the community 20 miles to the north that has adopted me in.
So, I guess what I’m saying is that I needed a shift in perspective, to zoom things way way out and take in the entire masterpiece from 30,000 feet above. And let me tell you, the view’s pretty great from up here.
Some resources for recalibrating:
A book –
Two songs –
’30,000 Feet’ by Ben Rector
‘Follow The Sun’ by Caroline Pennell
A TEDx Talk –
My Philosophy For A Happy Life by Sam Berns