Dissonance.

After taking full advantage of the cheap thrill that is called -asking intrusive questions to the stranger sitting next to you (also known as flying), I find myself here, in Kansas City.

When I wasn't engrossed in conversation with the man sitting next to me, I found myself thinking about the concept of dissonance; a chord that hints at bitter, but is so close to being sweet. Unrest. In need of resolve.

Turbulence. It reminds me that I am flying, not in control. There is comfort in the shaking, healthy fear that makes your heart beat just a little bit louder.

Burning in your lungs. It reminds you that there is a price to pay for moving faster. Physically taxing, yes, but one can push through.

Acne. Ah, the ever constant reminder that perfection cannot be attained. Insecurity down played by Cover Girl. As if a mask is large enough to hide every seen flaw.

Flowers. At funerals. The prose that a bright spring follows the darkest of winters. New life enters and seasoned life flees, only to happen again.

Sunday. The week does not end on Friday, good Friday. Thankful for Sunday, a weekly reminder that consonance was achieved on the last day of the week. Harmony, the story that ends with the truth: love wins.

Turbulence. It reminds me that I haven't arrived. I am in process, work in progress, on this Journey towards Jesus. One must pass through Friday to arrive at Sunday. Father, would you take me there?

{heart}
Kel