Eyes in a crowd

There are times in my life when I look for signs. When I am in parking lots I say to myself "if I get to my car before this person in the blue sandals passes me then it is a sign that..." Or sometimes it is more serious than that; perhaps I say to myself, "if this person sends me that unlooked-for email then it must be sign, because it something that I couldn't manipulate." Really though I am just trying to fool myself. If I can somehow trick myself into thinking that I actually have some say in the way my desires be fulfilled then I can feel some measure of control. Of course this is a double plague, a rather prismatic problem. There are so many facets to why I am wrong that it is like the shimmering surface of a gem, cuts that reflect, deflect, and cut the light to create an illusion. The truth is that I am not in control, and if I was then my life would surely be a great deal messier and most certainly going in a direction that would lead to destruction and despair. I know all to well what my flesh is capable of, I have seen it in action and it is an ugly sight, one that haunts me when I am weak. God is in control and he has not left his throne. That in itself is so monumental to me that I cannot begin to express my thanks. Not only is this frail insignificance that is my life in his hands, he has plan and a desire for how it should go. I may never know why God does what does, why he puts people in my life or why he wills what he wills but I know that the whole world is at stake, not just me. I am but one tiny butterfly in God's chaos theory, for it is only chaos to those with minds that cannot grasp it, meaning all of humanity of course! Secondly, I am wrong because I am too caught up in my own desires to acknowledge the will of God. My desires were given me simply so I could offer them back to the Father as a sacrifice, not necessarily so that they may be fulfilled.

So, why then do I look for your eyes in a crowd? Why do I get lost in the thought of your smile? Or better yet your deep-in-thought face, your angle of repose?