Packing up for the airport to go home is a bittersweet affair. Vacations wet my appetite for labor, for progress, and accomplishment.
But I also know I have a lazy bent that would like very much to stay and lounge away.
It is a constant struggle, this desire to work and to rest. Too much of either will twist and deform a life until it ceases to be healthy, and once it is like that the life can’t help but wound the other lives around it. Selfishness like that causes barbs and thorns grow on the crooked life.
It is a sad affair when that happens.
So here I go, putting shirts and dresses back into suitcases. I am scrubbing faces clean and handing out licorice during take-off. All because I believe I am meant for more than holidays and empty to-do lists.
I am made for Him, to love Him and to glorify Him. I take up my task list in faith, trusting that as I do He sees me and is loving me all along the way. God has given me one day to rest and six to work.
I refuse to despise or resent the work or the rest, but instead attempt to weave the two together into a life lived on the straight and narrow road of truth.
An airplane is taking me home so that, by His grace, I can do great things for God.
I love you, dear airplane.
