We reconciled something last night, we two. Standing on the verge of a graveyard, staring at a orange moon, past the beautiful broken tree. We reconciled our dreams and our plans and all the things in-between playing dress up at seven and the edge of forever we are ready to jump off. Did we ever think that they wouldn't come true? Did we ever imagine that perhaps our plans were different than His? Did we ever question the validity of imagination and temporal meanderings?
My mom says that we are supposed to leave a little bit of the Kingdom wherever we go, she said.
Someday we'll be laying on the inside of that graveyard. The moon will be hidden, not by roving clouds, but by a mound of dirt covering our soulless body of death. Someday we'll be the body over which people walk on a late night walk. Someday we'll be forgotten and someday no one will remember any matters of vital importance to us. Someday we'll be long gone even though we once said we wouldn't be gone long, just a year or so. Someday we just won't be any longer.
The only way to leave a little bit of the Kingdom wherever I go is to start now. To forgo those aspirations of living simply and live simply for Him. To sacrifice that stuff of earth, the selfishness my heart longs to hold onto and demands that I deserve. To relegate myself to the highest calling, never regretting it. To find that, like Lot's wife, if I look over my shoulder one last time, I will be remembered only as a useless block of salt.
To leave a little bit of the Kingdom wherever I go by going only toward the Kingdom.
