This morning I was watching the clouds move and I thought about how amazing it is that we can walk upon a moving ball of rock and how babies can't get their bearings right away. They don't walk for about a year. Is it because gravity is such a human encumbrance, because we are meant to walk in heaven? Then we we get older, we get a little tippy again. Are we getting ready to be weightless in heaven?
I was also thinking about the false self and the true self. As a parent, we don't count the hugs and kisses. We should. We tend to count our child's accomplishments, their acts of brilliance, their ability to pick up on grown up responsibilities. I think the false self (the self we create and shine up so that we look good, sound good, impress) is the counting self and the true self is the hugger. The true self surrenders to holy moments and heavenly investments. The true self is the sheep that gives up control (even though I don't think we are as "in control" as we tend to think we are!)
We set out on this indescribable journey with such innocent and feeble tools. We go. We wobble here for a while. In light of eternity, it's a tiny amount of time. He packs it with generous helpings of grace and reveals to us what we can understand, which is a small body of knowledge. It's what we can handle.
Oh, He is good.
