Certainly, eleven months are a blip in the grand scheme of things. They are a little piece of colored tape on the infinite rope of eternity. Eleven months can yet be full of promise, full of promise for the spiritually cultivating processes of being unraveled and undone, of God’s promise to sculpt and chip off pieces that don’t belong to his original intention and design. I wondered the other day how recognizable I’d be when I get off the plane about a year from now. Maybe others will see a real manifestation of what used to be a shadow, just a human being trying to be fully alive.
