Enigmatic Expendability

Saturday mornings have something magical about them. Especially when it's still early and the fog hasn't lifted off the lake, blocking all but the few heavenly rays of the sun peeking through.

We never slept in on Saturdays, when I was a kid. Through the different stages, countries and houses we lived in, a couple things were always a given. And sleeping in was never one of those things that was given to us. My dad was a farmer's kid; he doesn't know *how* to sleep in.

And so now his children, all grown up and living on their own... still wake up early on Saturday mornings. It gives you a good feeling. Like when you wake up and after all that waiting, the day you've been counting down toward for as long as anyone could possibly stand it has finally arrived. Eating a good breakfast, taking a nice long shower, getting things around the house done... it makes you feel alive when you've only been dragging your lifeless body through the rest of the week.

Saturdays are always productive days, in my family. If I ever get the pleasure of tortur-- I mean raising my own kids, they will definitely wake up early on the weekends. I won't let them miss the magic of listening to the silence as the world sleeps on in peace.

I'm between chaos, right now. I just returned from a very long and educative adventure taking me through several states and some life changing (and possibly a few breath taking) moments. In two weeks I will begin another one. But this one will take me through a few countries, as well. I have a piece of paper that says I will soon be setting foot on a slab of land that is not at all terrainally (or is that terrestrially?) connected to anything I've ever touched. Just another thing on that ever changing list of mine that I can tick off.

Oh, and I could possibly be excited about what'll happen at (and around, of course) that graduation thing, too. But I think what most thrills me is that when I return? I haven't the faintest idea which direction I'll be heading in. I could go to one side of the country, or the other. And I won't know until after I leave. Oh well. I guess I'll just have to take a few extra sweaters.

I was reading Nate Saint's story to my 7 year old cousin, last night. That story has been told to me since before I was old enough to know what a pilot was. But it still has the power to bring me to my knees when I think about the sacrifice and the complete faith those men had in God.

It's with mixed emotions that I will be travelling overseas, this summer. I feel so inadequate with my feeble attempts to do something worthwhile. But then God does the impossible and when my father looks at me and tells me that he has never seen anything like it before (and not to expect any reruns), I'm reminded that... really? My feeble attempts at productivity aren't the point. There is nothing I could do that would make up for my ineptitude.

But I'm expendable. It's not the results that matter, it's the attempt. Either I can live every moment working toward purpose or I can sit around waiting for purpose to find me. I don't know about you, but there seems to be quite a lot of purpose in living each day with purpose. My expandability is an asset, not a restriction.

What is it for you?