Stamp of Identity

"The wax that has melted in God's will can easily receive the stamp of its identity, the truth of what it was meant to be. But the wax that is hard and dry and brittle and without love will not take the seal: for the hard seal, descending upon it, grinds it to powder.
"Therefore if you spend your life trying to escape from the heat of the fire that is meant to soften and prepare you to become your true self, and if you try to keep your substance from melting in the fire - as if your true identity were to be hard wax - the seal will fall upon you at last and crush you. You will not be able to take your own true name and countenance, and you will be destroyed by the event that was meant to be your fulfillment."

--Thomas Merton, New Seeds of Contemplation

It's 8:03 am and I'm waiting to board a flight to Oklahoma. Going to see my parents. My mom, really, for Mother's Day. Seth's Dad is coming to New York for their annual father/son hang-out thingy, so basically, they kicked me out. Perfect timing for being kicked out seeing how it's mother's day and all.

I don't understand why people, who are clearly surrounded by other quiet, obviously very sleepy, people, feel the need to speak so frickin loud. Honestly. Look around man. NO ONE else is speaking as loud as you are. Ssshhhhhh

I have a little secret to share with you all. Remember how we were always taught in Sunday school that flying is "the perfect time to witness!". We should all find out if the stranger next to us is saved because it's perfect! They're trapped! They can't go anywhere! Here's my little secret. I don't do that.. When I sit next to a stranger I like to be left alone. Very very alone. So alone that I bury my head in a book from the moment I sit down. I'm really hoping that loud man isn't sitting next to me. I KNOW he's the kind that nervously and LOUDLY asks you questions even if you're head's buried in a book. Ok. Gotta go. Boarding. Layover in Chicago.

10:48 AM:

In Chicago, home of the two famous O's. I didn't realize when I booked my flight that this second plane here was one of those little ones. Dang it. Not a fan. I didn't have to sit by the loud mouth. Instead I was smack dab in the middle of two babies, one directly in front and one directly behind, and one, if not both, had a poopy diaper. Lovely. I've cheered myself with a bag of Chex Mix and am waiting to board the rinky dink. Wish me well.