Have you ever felt like a small piece in a gigantic puzzle?
Like, your role is minor in the grand scheme of things,
Yet somehow—undeniably—essential.
You sense it.
Even in your quietest moments,
You know you matter.
And then you look out into the abyss of the unknown.
You quiver.
Because how do you begin a journey
That offers no map, no GPS, and no step-by-step tutorial?
Day in, day out.
Night after night.
That quiet gnawing at your spirit won’t let up.
It whispers to the dream inside you,
The one still wrapped in mystery, waiting for its reveal.
It won’t go away.
It won’t let you sleep.
It drops breadcrumbs—small downloads of purpose—
Just enough to keep you awake,
But never enough to make the fear vanish.
And if you’re anything like me,
You want all the files.
You want order.
You want to know how step A connects to Z.
You want to feel secure before you start.
Because fear?
Fear is paralyzing.
And lack of preparation?
That’s a breeding ground for anxiety.
I find myself hesitating—
Not because I lack faith,
But because I crave certainty.
I crave control.
And purpose rarely offers either.
Yet that gnawing won’t stop.
It grows louder.
It demands a response.
The only way to quiet the unrest
Is to listen.
To yield.
To allow purpose to spoon-feed you what you’re ready to receive—
Bit by bit.
Step by step.
It’s terrifying, this unknown.
There’s so much ground to cover,
So much uncertainty ahead.
But I ask myself:
Do I sit in my frustration and stay stuck?
Or do I move forward—palms sweating, heart racing—
To grab hold of what’s waiting
On the other side of this terrain?
I may be a small piece,
But without me,
The puzzle isn’t complete.
-Velma
