Pirates...

When I was a little girl I wrote a story. It was an adventure about pirates and treasure. Although reading it today I discovered how terribly awful it must be for second grade teachers to try and make sense of the garbled mess that is an 8 year olds story, the praise I received from an extremely boring story still resonates with me today. Why? Because, no one anywhere has ever written that specific story. No one was apart of my imagination in the way that extremely wide ruled piece of paper was.

Don't worry it gets better. The more I reminisce about this story, the more I realize what kind of God I believe in.

I think in all my human small-mindedness I often forget God's big anti-boxable-big-minded-ness. In fact, I will venture to say we all forget about how big God really is. Who exactly am I sitting here trying to define the One beyond all knowledge, love, truth, and life? I mean, I must look like a tiny little ant that is screaming up at a large confused human. Because I would be confused if there was an ant screaming up at me, and possibly a little scared...just saying.

Well, truthfully I don't know. Actually I should broaden that statement. I don't know about a lot of things anymore. I don't even know if I can tell you what it is I don't know. I don't even know if I believe you when you tell me the way things are, or the way things should be done, because, I just don't know about making definite statements about a God bigger than all the Universe. I am beginning to feel like that is a bit dangerous.

I can tell you, though, what I think. Much like my story, much like my unique imagination, God who is the craftiest crafter of us all has us beat at our own game of individuality. He went ahead and made that for us, by creating us all. I guess this is the root of it for me. It pains me to see people stamping out individuality. It pains me to see people striving for "individuality" when they are already beautifully so, but have been terrified by too many people to revel in it.

Don't you get it? God wrote a big story, called redemption. But God also wrote a mini-story. About you. He is still writing it. But it's title is "insert your name here plus me, God, because I am writing it". It is not, "Insert your name here plus everyone else's opinion and ideas about who you should be". Because of that, I am free.

My pirate story will never be a best-seller (sorry to disappoint you). My pirate story may not even make sense to you. But it is my pirate story, and it came from me and the brain God designed knowing one day, it would imagine an adventure about pirates and treasure. And he smiled, knowing, that though no one else may ever care about this story, no one else would ever write one like it. Much like no one will ever write a life story like yours, or mine. So I guess, what I am trying to say, go be your own pirate story and rejoice in the freedom of knowing God wanted it that way in the first place.

Love Cait.

Overwhelmed: bury or drown beneath a huge mass.

I couldn't have said it better myself, dear old friend Webster's. And I am quickly beginning to see that my perception of adult hood, standing in my little patent shoes and pink tutu peering out from childhood oh so many years ago, is flawed and perhaps completely misunderstood.

But even as confusing as this all seems some days, as overwhelming as it is, as mysterious and foggy as my bright little future appears, I know it can all change in a moments notice. And with that in mind, with some hope over the horizen of mystery in the Morgan life...with that in my mind I survive the overwhelming everyday of my own little adulthood.