The Map I Haven’t Found Yet

The Map I Haven’t Found Yet, lets me know that I don’t have to know everything right now.

There’s a map inside me, even if I haven’t seen it yet. It doesn’t look like the ones in books or games. It’s not made of paper or pixels. It’s made of moments ~ some I’ve already lived, and many I have yet to discover.

This map doesn’t tell me where to go. It listens to where I'm growing.

Maybe I’ve felt it when I stood up for someone, even though my voice almost failed me. Or when I stayed quiet, maybe because I was scared, or because I spent too much time thinking and not doing. Maybe it flickered when I asked a big question that no one could answer, or when I felt something so deeply I didn’t have words for it yet.

That’s part of the map. The beginning.

I may not have walked through fire yet. I haven’t had to rebuild yourself from flames or ghosts of years past. But one day, I might. And when that day comes, I’ll find that my map has been quietly preparing me. It will show me the places where courage lives. It will remind me of all the people who made me feel loved and safe. It will point to the stories I’ve carried, even the ones I didn’t know were mine.

Some parts of the map will be confusing. I’ll take wrong turns. I’ll get lost. That’s okay. Getting lost is part of learning how to find oneself.

And maybe along the way, I will discover the map's secret - that it doesn’t just live inside me, it will be everywhere that I choose to journey. I will build it as I go - with every choice, every friendship, every time I say “I don’t know” and keep going anyway - I'm drawing new paths.

One day, I’ll look back and see how far I’ve come. I’ll notice the bridges I chose to build, the mountains I dared to climb, the quiet places where I chose to rest. I’ll see the glowing trail behind me, and I’ll know...I didn’t just follow a map.

I made one.

I am actively walking the path ~ hopeful, curious, and beginning to understand that the map is something I'm making with every step.

I Am Still Drawing - Because

I didn’t know I had a map

until I started walking.

Not intentionally toward anything big -

but always hoping

just toward the next question,

the next feeling I can’t name,

the next moment that makes me pause.

It’s not a map with borders or roads.

It’s made of small things:

a friend who will listen,

a book that makes me to cry,

a time I will say “no”

and mean it.

A time when yes is the correct answer.

I’ve crossed no terrible mountains yet,

but I’ve climbed quiet hills of doubt

and found sunlight waiting at the top.

I’ve built bridges from my own words,

even when they came out crooked.

I’ve planted seeds in places

I used to be afraid of.

And the map keeps growing.

Sometimes I trace it with my finger

in the air,

just to remind myself:

I’m not lost.

I’m learning.

There are stars above me

that I haven’t named yet,

and paths I’ll walk

with people I haven’t met.

But I know this:

every step I take

draws a line that glows behind me.

I am still drawing.

I am still arriving.

And the map is mine.