The finer things

I love this time of day. The various and sundry children in my fiefdom are enjoying quiet reflection, or nap time. It's quiet; God be Praised.

My four walls are stifling me. I long for a vigorous hike up the side of some daunting mountain. I need the sort of physical excursion that makes my muscles scream, and quiets my soul.

There is discontent in me. It's a poison. Yet, I look around and see a life bursting with reasons for joy. My children and my home are more than I might ever thank God adequately for. Why, then, it there a restlessness, that threatens to dull the peace I ought to exult in?

The fickleness of my heart is a burden. Here I live a celebration eternal, yet I pine for what I do not have. You would think me a sorry temporal fool, if you could see the inner workings of my mind.

How quickly I forget that I am no mere mortal. I am a child of the King of Heaven. I am destined for Eternity, with a beauty yet to be revealed... And then I rest my mind on some silly thing.

What a weight this flesh is! My humanity slows me down, like a mire I can't climb out of. I wallow when I should fly. I sigh when I ought to sing. I grumble, when my lips were made for praise.
What weak worship I offer!

One day I shall shrug off this mean disguise, and then you shall see! That which will startle your eyes shall be regal, consistent, and eternal. In that day, you and I will have done with this oppression, and we shall finally soar as we were meant to.
Come, Lord. Haste the Day.