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We’re excited about life. The pieces are all there. We have plans and everything seems straight and simple.

Construction gets under way. We’re moving forward. We know exactly what we want.

And then the Carver picks up an instrument and begins the work.

We hold tight. We think I can do this. It’s ok.

But then things change and we’re not so sure.

People are brought into our lives that make us uncomfortable.

The cuts get deeper.

Color pales and we get confused.

We watch as bits of us drop away.

We look down and see what is lost. We mourn what has fallen. We don’t want to part with things we think are important.

The Carver keeps the instruments sharp. Carefully honing the blade, we hear the swish of metal on stone and we’re afraid.

We no longer recognize ourselves.

There are strange steps. Odd bits of life, ragged and raw.

The gouges are deep.

We weep over the pile of loss from the past. We focus on what is gone.

What we don’t see is how the Carver’s hands firmly and lovingly hold us.

All we see is the pile of shavings that obliterate our view.

But the Carver sees. The Carver sees a beauty on the inside that we can’t see from the outside. The Carver whittles away, bit by bit, to reveal the treasure within.

We don’t understand the Carver’s dream. But we reach a point where we must trust. Even though we don’t understand, we let the Carver work. And we begin to let go.

We begin to trust that the Carver has a greater plan. It is too big for us to understand right now. But now we think I can get through this. It’s going to be ok.

And for the first time, we’re ok with it.

To be continued…

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