I think I know so much. Whether by education or experience, I really think I'm quite smart. I can talk a good game, lead the pack when I need to, write words that sound downright Austenian, and make life look good.

But the more I think I know, the more clueless I become.

I read a lot. I stockpile bits of information in my brain, observing and studying, knowing that I'll need this information someday. I keep telling myself how wonderfully prepared I am for the future, that someday I will be more than able to handle marriage and motherhood.

But something deep beyond my knowing tells me I will never be as prepared as I think I am. At least, until I've walked that path.

I move towards each new step with complete confidence, courageous and sure of myself. But as I set my foot down, what I thought I knew is stripped away and I am left standing, naked and vulnerable, with nowhere to go but forward.

Things are rarely as I expect. No amount of preparedness could have readied me for reality.

Each step is different than the one before, and different from any other journey I've observed. I could read a million stories and never find one quite like mine.

I'm not saying preparation and knowledge are useless. Oh no. I'd be lost without them. But they only do me any good when I wait, take each step as it comes, stop trying to plan my life and be ultra-prepared for it, and add to my knowledge by each experience that I encounter.

I know where I stand and I know where I'm going (the general direction, anyways). And the more I know about it, the more I realize that's about all I know.