Beg Steal or Borrow

I still have many, many questions.

Simple ones, even, like "Now that I am out of bed, what am I supposed to do?" But as life unfolds itself, I am starting to understand it a bit; it's not so much what we choose to do, but who we are doing so.  I think one of my struggles is always wanting to see everything as poetry. I'm constantly translating everything I see or hear so that my heart can understand it in a beautiful, or sentimental or idealistic way.  For now, I don't mind keeping things inside my head.  There have been times where I felt my spirit screamed for a soul to share things with.  But for now, I am content waiting and enjoying the thoughts as they ramble across my mind, in the quietness and tranquility of my spirit.  There's this verse that talks about "Mary treasuring these things up in her heart".  Well, it's kind of like that.

(On another note: I'm glad my Dad listens to bluegrass pandora as he sits next to me)