Thursday, September 8, 2011

From My Faculties to Holy Help



There is something frightfully romantic about reducing your personal effects into a small assortment of bags.


Certainly it carries with it a sort of transience; a deliberate lack of permanence and security.
But in exchange it offers a vibrant sense of adventure. It encourages a sense of temperance; it makes life feel more beautifully fleeting, and eternity a near friend, rather than a distant relative.
Like hope bound upon the ardent wind, one's soul leaps free of the security and constraint of the solid ground.
Instead, given over to the benevolent and mysterious purposes of Fate, Who does not entitle it's passengers access to the flight plan.
It is an exchange.
like exchanging currency, one offers up the ground, for the sky. Earth, for Heaven.
My faculties, for Holy Help.

When the zipper of the freshly engorged suitcase sighs in satisfaction from its hearty meal, there is a moment of reflection.
These packed objects, when before strewn about my room, gave a sense of material security. Yet now in this reduced state, their futility is laid bare.
Whence then, does my Help come?
From the LORD, certainly.

A moment of anxious freedom. The destination determined by Providence's purposes.
In the morrow I'll be leaving on a Jet Plane
- Matthew 

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