Losing

I knew that stepping aside
So You could step forward
Would be hard
But I didn't know how much
Because losing myself
Feels a lot like losing out
And letting You in
By letting go
Feels a lot like losing control
Finding You
Feels a lot like losing my way
And moving on
Feels a lot like giving up
Sometimes it's so hard to trust You
Because I feel like I'm alone
And leaving everything I've ever known
Is the hardest thing I've had to do
Losing my selfish purpose
Feels a lot like aimlessness
And sometimes seeking You
Feels more like just waiting
Trying to walk in the light
Feels like stumbling in the dark
And for all the certainty I had
Now I'm suddenly unsure
Letting You be my strength
Feels a lot like weakness
Letting You lead the way
Feels like getting left far behind
And having any kind of faith
Leaves me feeling blind
Losing my common sense
Doesn't make sense at all
Giving my heart to You
Feels a lot like breaking my heart
Putting my hope in You
Sometimes feels like despair
Not getting the things I think I need
Makes me wonder if You care
I confess dying to You
Sometimes feels like losing my life
And yet I do
Trusting, hoping, praying,
Losing myself to You
Will make me lose my doubt and fear
And give me more than I could ever dream...

Mosaic

At some point, I thought (foolishly) that when I looked back on my life, it was supposed to look like a masterpiece, like a priceless oil painting completed by a master artist. Stroke by stroke, color by color, it would be formed into something beautiful over time. Shadowing and light would add depth and beauty as time passed and all these things would come together to form a perfect, unique masterpiece.
But I was wrong.
The brush strokes of my experiences are not fluid and do not create becoming forms as I imagined. The lines of my plans are not smooth. Rather, the edges are jagged and the colors of my personality are pieced together seemingly at random, often in clashing colors. Many times, things in my life are anything but beautiful.
In fact, my life looks nothing like an oil painting.
Or a watercolor.
Or a pastel.
Or a charcoal.
Or an acrylic.
Really, my life is so broken and messed up that it seems like it is hardly worth even considering for a finger painting. There are just too many random, uneven pieces and I think they are all just too different to come together to create art.
But when I take a step back, I am surprised to see that the pieces of my life have formed something, something that looks like art.
Something that is beautiful.
My life is not a masterpiece of smooth lines and well blended colors. But it is a work of art, of a different kind.
It definitely does not look like a beautiful oil painting.
My life is a mosaic.
The shards and broken pieces, the jagged edges and uneven lines alone don't seem worthwhile. But when they are pieced together, they create a beautiful picture. They make something beautiful out of what seems like worthless scraps of experiences, broken hearts, hurts, and mistakes. And each new piece, every pain and lesson and joy, completes the picture and gives it more depth, more beauty. And I can only see it when I take a step back.
Maybe all these broken and scattered pieces are worth something after all.
Maybe my life really is a masterpiece.