Oh, to throw my watch away.
Let's measure a day in moments, not minutes.
Though there is something to be said of security and stability, someone else can say it. Not me. Not today. On the outside I might appear the opposite, but there's a deeper responsibility that runs through me- one that calls to bohemian bones cradling a God-given heart. On the inside I'm wooed by the never-ending expectation mornings were meant to be different, meant to bring unspoiled sights, sounds, and stories that a Creator only knows. It's the stuff of adventure that's welded deep inside my frame, stretching out and through my senses, keeping my limbs light and ready.
But then I get weighed down by worry that there isn't enough time, money or memory to see everything on earth I want to. A sense of restlessness creeps in, very unannounced and unwelcome. Time speeds up the more I realize how little of it I truly have to spend, and the pages slip off the calendar like a slow avalanche toward all my plans.
Yet... is this what it's like to yearn for Heaven? My desire to see the world and all its beauty, just a placeholder for God in Glory? I have a wanderlust that's not my doing and that stamps in a passport don't seem to abate. No matter how many times I watch the sun melt into the ocean, I'm left wanting more because no sunset is ever enough. Arrivals here make me want to go there, and all those dots in between? Yeah, let's do those too.
Thinking about eternity can weird me out, but lately, I've been trying to picture it differently. If God gave us all this now, what happens when the finite becomes infinite? What happens when I really can throw time away because it will no longer impose a limit on what I can discover?
Best of all, that feeling?
The one that says I just can't take it all in?
I'll be in Him,
the first True morning,
and beyond those great expectations... will begin.
"When humans should have become as perfect in voluntary obedience as the inanimate creation is in its lifeless obedience, then they will put on its glory, or rather that greater glory of which Nature is only the first sketch."