Yesterday, our 6-year-old son Aidan was scampering on the rocks near Mt Rushmore. At one point he paused, looked around, drew a deep breath, and said, with great contentment, "Mom, this is like paradise to me."
Indeed. Not just because it's the Black Hills (which are pretty great), but because you are (he is) in the wonder of the moment in all its immediacy.
I am at the moment on the tarmac in Minneapolis, beginning this journey to Mozambique. And I am already missing the Paradise that is my home and family, but I am off to another Paradise. I don't know if I will discover something there that is not at home; maybe it's me that will be found. It reminds me of what the Benedictine writer Esther DeWall wrote: "The reason for stability is this: God is not elsewhere."
So enjoy the journey you are on today. May it be like Paradise to you.
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