My vision for healing far surpasses what I can even comprehend.

Ask anyone at nineteen to describe their life at forty and they will get the details wrong in every direction. The job hadn't been invented. The people who came to matter most had not been met.

Imagination is limited by the material it has, which is only ever the past. So the version of better you can picture right now — the specific one, with the details filled in — is probably too small and possibly the wrong shape entirely. That is not a discouraging fact. The ceiling you are picturing isn't the ceiling, only the top of what you have seen so far.