Clear and Hazy

I was at the Grand Canyon about seven years ago. It was my first time there, with my family, and it was in the middle of December. We were on our way to Michigan from California, moving back from our 4 year hiatus over in Sacramento. My parents thought it would be a good idea to take a couple weeks to travel through the national parks between MI and CA; mainly those surrounding the four corners of Colorado, New Mexico, Arizona, and Utah.
So we found ourselves, on a cold, crisp December morning, with snow falling all around us, standing on the edge of the Grand Canyon. We were surrounded by clouds and trying to figure out what the big deal was with this national monument. We were attempting to understand this because the clouds had filled in the canyon, along with the entire area around us, and reduced the magnificence of the monument to white, puffy, nothingness. But this white nothingness was, in the end, what made this specific trip unique.
As we walked along the edge of the canyon we began talking, not about anything specific but just small family talk. As we were doing this I was looking over the edge, trying to see this "canyon" which was apparently right next to me. And then the clouds opened up. Just a small opening, but enough for me to catch a glimpse of the vastness of the canyon. It was incredible.

Four years later I found myself back at the Grand Canyon. This time I was there with friends during the summer. It was a hot and clear day; polar opposite from my previous visit. It was also the first time I saw the Grand Canyon in all its glory...and it looked like a postcard. It was like my mind couldn't wrap itself around how large the canyon was, so it just fell back on an understandable object: a postcard. The canyon looked 2-D. It was weird.

I think sometimes this is why God only gives us glimpses of where we're going in life. Like he did for me a few weeks ago. Once we get that glimpse, that view of how epic things could be, he takes it away.

Because we won't understand the full picture.

And only a view gives us a hope of what could be; it spurs us on to take risks we may have not taken otherwise.

I think that's what has happened in my life. A glimpse followed by a hazing over of the path that could be mine. What's frustrating me now is the roadblock I'm coming across in getting to that place I glimpsed.

We'll see what happens.