I have this weird thing about spider webs.

As I’m writing this, I’m sitting on my deck in a cheap camping chair I bought at WalMart, still in my dress from work, barefoot. This has become my post-work routine now that the weather has turned – it’s quiet, relaxing, perfectly shaded and the best way to decompress before embarking on the rest of my evening. A good time to break in my deck after a winter of abandonment.

Back to the spider webs.

One day while losing myself in thoughts in my little WalMart chair, I glanced down and noticed the start of a spider web in the corner of my deck. The single line of the web spanned from one of the wooden rails lining the deck over to the branch of a plant that didn’t quite survive the cold weather. It was small, harmless and I didn’t think much of it.

Since then, I’ve caught myself paying attention to the web from time to time. The tiny, translucent strand that I noticed that first day has now turned into a large array of threads, sprawling out from the center and ever expanding. The web gets bigger and more complex day after day, and despite its fine composition, has endured the wind and rain of the last few weeks.

Here’s my thing with this web, and just spider webs in general. I haven’t seen the spider, but I know she’s there. I know she’s small, that she’s spent day after day constructing this home, this source of food, this life. I know she’s probably been washed out by the recent storms, knocked down by the slightest breeze and that even I pose a threat. (Heck, I could squish that bug or sweep away her web anytime I want.) But there it is, this intricate web that she has created.

I’m sure I sound silly. Why am I so intent on writing about this web? Well, in all honesty, I can relate.

It can be very easy to feel small and that the progress you’re making in life is coming in the tiniest of strides. You can strive, day in and day out, to be your best self, to accomplish your goals, to follow the path you think you should be on, but inevitably there will be a gust of wind or the chance of inclement weather that will slow things down. A strand of your web may snap, seemingly threatening the security of it all. But really, it’s just one strand, and you’ll be graced with another sunny day. Another chance to piece it together again.

None of this is to say that I’ve had this life-altering obstacle or gust of wind knock me down. In reality, I’ve been more than fortunate with the opportunities I’ve been given. There are moments, though, where doubt and uncertainty creep in.

Is this where I’m supposed to build my web?

Is this the kind of web I should be creating?

Who should I share my web with?

>> In case you’ve totally missed the point, the web is life.

Throughout this endless cycle of over-thinking, I tend to come back to the same conclusion: everything will work out the way it’s supposed to. If I continue to work hard, focus on what matters most, come at life with relentless vigor and passion, things will all come together. Eventually, the web will be complete.

If a tiny little spider can get back up and create something beautiful, stable, fulfilling, then what’s to say that I can’t do the same?

One strand at a time, this web of life will come together, just as it should.