Clams and clouds, chowder and chanceries

I haven't been having the best of weeks. Lots of reasons, mostly having to do with my trying to figure everything out all the time. Why must it seem that my discussions are always about solving? Whatever ends this may come to, I know that it is for my growth.

What do I hold until the end, until the stilling of my breath and the loosing of my hands? What do I find to hold onto in the strong redoubt in which I take shelter when the storm rages around me? Days come up around me like the tide, and I wish to know the measure of them. Yet not for me is this knowledge?

So I take to heart the things that I have been taught. I leave behind the things that belong not to me, as able as I am to bring nothing that is not already in Your possession. Take what I am, take this broken refrain. What can I give that You don't already deserve?