I came across the following poem today, when I was looking though my poetry scrapbook for something else entirely:
Lord, make my childish soul stand straight
To meet that kindly stranger, Fate;
Shake hands with elder brother, Doom,
Nor bawl and scurry from the room.
It is a funny little poem, but perfectly encapsulates my current attitude towards the Will of God. I want to do it. I want it more than anything else in the world... but, golly, sometimes I feel that I just might bawl and scurry away if I find out what exactly His will for me is. I find it very encouraging that I am not the only one who reacts this way.