This poem by Wallace Stevens was not at all what I expected
it to be. When I think of Sunday
mornings, I think of having a delightful breakfast with my family and then
going to church. For me, Sunday mornings
have always been one of my favorite times of the week. It makes me sad to think that Stevens
probably wouldn't agree.
Although
I can see Steven’s point that death is what makes things beautiful, I would
have to disagree. I think heaven or
paradise or eternity is going to be unimaginably beautiful. Unimaginable is the point I want to make, for
perhaps the reason we may be apprehensive about an unchanging place is because
it is so foreign to us. We live in a
place where everything changes so what are we to compare heaven with? Perhaps God intentionally didn’t give us the
ability to imagine such a life but I have no doubt that He has created a place
for us that will go above and beyond our expectations.
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