Of One Sunday's Closing Ceremonies

I roll out my little makeshift bed.
I plug in my little lamp.
I invent little ideas up with my 10 inch head.
I think of all the problems I have and toy around with different ways to solve them.
I type away on my little keyboard making small noises that fill up the entire room.
I burn away the hours at night, plotting my grand schemes to optimally navigate roads I've self defined.
I have my goals, that I want to subdue, that I've chosen, that would make me happy.
And then I remember it's about what Christ would have me do.
I wonder if I have anything figured out after all.
I question if all my operations will ever be executed as planned.
I look at how Jesus spent most his ministry on 12 men, yet took opportunities to feed 5000, knowing all along who'd see the truth and who'd take advantage of his compassion.
I realized I need to be, should be, desire to be, just like him.
A "little Christ".
I unplug my little lamp.
I roll over and wait for my eyes to adjust so I can stare at the ceiling.
I know I don't have much figured out, but I know I have enough figured out.
Goodnight.