I am just that, one piece.

Dishes in the sink. Clothes in a pile. Was that a Barbie purse I just stepped on? Yawn. Yawn again. Two yawns in a row? That's ridiculous. Shake my head vigorously and get to work.

Ok, dishes done, two toys thrown in the general direction of the sweetness' other toys and I'm finished for the night. My pj's have never felt this good. I glance over to my table where 1000 little segments of a Kinkade painting are spilled just begging me to fit the pieces together. I sit down at the table with a long, relaxing sigh.

This piece is beautiful. Some green to the right, and a small splash of blue from what might be part of a flower? Or maybe it is part of the sky from the top of the tree? I'm not sure. It's intriguing just like it is, but it needs to be connected. It is designed to fill and be filled. The actual act of filling and being filled doesn't subtract from the beauty of its current state but only serves to add more beauty and purpose to the bigger picture.

Like a pitcher that water is poured into then subsequently re-distributed to fill the cups of the thirsty.

There are gifts, talents, skills, ideas, words, and pieces of beauty specifically designed for me.

I am just that, one piece. 

A small piece with some greenery and a splash of blue. 

I am beautiful and intriguing in and of myself.

But that is not all.

I am designed to fill and be filled as part of a bigger picture.

But it has to start somewhere. 

I am beautiful and intriguing in and of myself. 

A small piece with some greenery and a splash of blue.

I am just that, one piece.