Perhaps it is man's folly that we expect our journeys ever reach an end.  When I set out upon what was to be the greatest journey of my life, I believed my destination to be the harbor of Boston in America.  What little control we men truly have over our lives.  The new life I envisioned upon the shores of promise were as a desert mirage to bring me into the path of God's providence and into the true current of my life.  There are days I regret passing over the gang plank onto the steamer The Janus Door on that bleary April of 1896: years of fear and tempest followed those steps.  And yet had I never boarded that fateful ship, I would never have seen the vast depths of the Mystery; I would never have breathed the sweet tola-filled air of the Quoriali domes; I would never have walked alongside heroes and queens as their brother.  To take back those steps would be to accept a sliver of the life my Savior granted me.  All He asked was that I step aboard His vessel, and His waves would carry me to my home.

And that is where my story begins.

1 comment:

Phillip said...

Great start. I dig it.