I'm home now, and I'm at the place where Chowon has her swim classes. I think there's only about 10 minutes remaining for the class.

It's good to be back... but somehow every place feels about the same, and with a few exceptions, everything I do feels like a means to an end. The question, "what end", has so many possible answers, and each answer is expressible in such a short time, but carries so much finality, that I feel unsatisfied, as if the meaning of life is so simple that it's anticlimactic.

This train of thought betrays some shortsightedness in me. How can an infinite and incomprehensible heaven seem anticlimactic to me, uncomprehending? How can pleasing an infinitely glorious God seem anything else than awesome to me, insignificant? If it is simple in explanation, then it is because an all-knowing God has lisped it to me with perfect articulation. If it is complex in explanation, it is because an all-wise God has gifted wisdom to me with rich generosity. And God has gifted deep wisdom to all of us in His word, accessible even to unbelievers who share the benefits of God's gracious blessings on our free land.

....

I'm sitting in this lobby, blogging on my work laptop, and I'm really paranoid that someone's gonna look over my shoulder at me while I type.

...

It looks like swim class is over. Chowon's gonna be coming out of the locker room any minute, so I'll shut down.

"I can't ignore you."