An Hour Past Omaha
Becoming like Jesus is slow, tree-growth slow, slug slow, driving accross Nebraska slow Yet we panic about our imperfection only an hour past Omaha, we should be in Idaho by now. Of course I've heard from much wiser and older friends about how short this life is. It does usually seem that way near the end of a journey. But in the here and now, it's easier to dwell on where we aren't instead of where we are. The secada on the toilet at the rest stop feels more real than anything you've ever experienced before, because it is right now, and it all makes home feel a million miles away.