So that's how it is, I suppose, after all that's said and done.
Things become clearer to me, day by day:
The call was not all it seems to be;
The wait is not what it sought to serve;
There is a wrench deep in my heart,
The nail, a gargantuan thing,
Twisting languidly, slowly, but decidedly accurate.
A question asked thrice and left unanswered,
I wondered why it was left unpursued;
So that's how it is, I suppose,
Something compelled me to address other notions.
If one promises no Saturdays, there is naught to keep.
Still, is there comfort in that, I wonder?
Oh, cruel, cruel, world.
How strangely things work out, when all's been said and done.
God's tapestry's woven with each step you take
With each decision you make--
And when you look back, sometimes, you wonder how
He could have conceived, such grand designs;
Such intricate details--He wove them together.
Thread by thread, step by step.
Sometimes He weaves two tapestries together,
For a little while, part of His bigger design;
Separate the seams, part of His bigger design;
Joins them for good, part of His bigger design.
He gives because He loves, and patches up the mismatched lines.
Yes, what honour it is--a mere little being,
Picked from the many; called to serve and glorify.

Aye. But what am I saying?
Lost, lost. Stranded on a floating log, far out in the seas.
"'Why, Lord?' she whispered. 'Why is this so hard?
What am I supposed to do with these feelings?
Take them away if they're not from You.'"
Aye.
And so is Pilar lucky, too.
Sigh.