From the first flailing breath, to the last reedy sigh, we cry for something lost. Elusive, we think it hides behind a smile, a great house, or spouse, or kid, or job. Or things. Or a dress size. Or exotic places. Yet chasing it, we find only a fistful of wind (Ecclesiastes 1:14) and an acrid tang of disillusionment.
The truth is, it was lost long before we entered this world.
Can it be found? What is this longing for, if not to push us to look? Could it be that we long for the Maker of Eden, and our restlessness can be the catapult that launches our souls heavenward?