Some times I felt trapped in my father’s house yearning for the fast-paced glowing distraction of the outside world. "Why waste time on the details?" I complained about not getting where I want too andy mates are getting farther than me and it seems like I am trapped in a rat race play accord to the matrix of the universe.
But my father gently picked up a knotty block of wood, "Youth feels endless so it’s easy to burn it for a night's warmth but God builds with seasoned timber, not ash. Let Him shape you" he said as I ignored him and spent years chasing fleeting thrills. Yet I still woke up on various day hollow and aimless Returning to the empty room till one day i found a note: “Let God plane away the rough edges ae he is preparing you to hold weight.”
Tears fell as I picked up the book that it fell from. I finally surrendered my life to the Master Carpenter who created the universe and has been directly my feet, choosing lasting strength over temporary spark.