Going Home

Bad Translator: Turning everyday phrases into confusing ramblings, all for the enjoyment of us, the easily amused.

 I was fooling around with it just now, and not knowing what to put in next, I simply typed: "I'm afraid of the water." 56 google translations later, the result came. "I'm not afraid of water."

 Now I feel hope.

 Earlier today, I started imagining what I'll feel when my Earthly trials are over. I think I'll try to describe my entrance as I hope it to be.

 I've never felt so light... Nothing hurts anymore. But I'm not breathing either. The sky and I become one and I'm flying. How is it that I feel the breeze when I feel nothing? All the lights are stirred together in wonderful confluence and I'm beaming. A symphony fills my ears, such a gorgeous sound, just as I burst through the galaxy's ceiling. Instead of underwater, I'm actually over water as it creates just another layer in sub-reality's atmosphere. The moisture is beading where I splashed in as I look back, knowing it'll be the last glance I have towards what we mistakenly had called life. In that moment I'll forget the only world I ever knew, but it's alright, because my Father, my real Father is waiting there for me. I don't know what time it is but then realize time doesn't exist, never did. I forget what time ever was. Going up there is like learning to read, and you can't remember what it was even like before you knew, other than it was terrible. I one by one forget the laws. Matter and all its rules slips my mind. "Pain?", you'll ask, and I'll shrug in nonplus. The training wheels are flying off as I pick up speed, growing exponentially faster until I can't feel my legs and the axles are aflame. I rocket through the rest of the Milky Way eternally quicker than the speed of light. And yet I'm so calm, so drowsy in wonder. It's like a snowy night when I'm wrapped in blankets and chewing on the marshmallow that should be in my hot chocolate, looking at the tree lit up. Those gifts, they come to me tomorrow. And those silly ornaments, celebrations of such frivolous milestones, are coming down soon. They were pretty while they lasted, but it's time to tell Jesus happy birthday. Next morning I'll fly down the stairs and sit on the couch in my fluffy socks again until everyone decides there's been enough waiting. My dad, this time my real daddy, is finally there. Oh, how marvelous! Oh, the joy I'll never know until the day! Finally, when a light bright enough to blind the Earth's eyes shines everywhere and I'm home. Then, I'll know to say "I'm with your son, Jesus". His face, my Father's face will look to me... And I'm absolutely certain when I say that it's all going to be worth the Hell I have down here. The mistakes of the ones that I loved, the times I was hurt and abandoned, the times I had nobody to hold me on my worst days... It will all melt away the moment I have my Father holding me and saying He's proud, He's been waiting for me, He loves me. Never will I know a greater joy than this. 

I think it's obvious I was pretty much crying throughout half of this. Welp, whatever. That was fun.