Pascal’s wager – the concept of infinite returns for finite distress should be easy enough to grasp. An eternal empyrean abode in return for a short-lived homelessness on earth. But short-lived life that feels short-changed is long, and I am not strong. Abide in me, Father, and make my desire only for what is Yours. Give me the wings to soar, if only to flutter fleetingly in the pure white light of your presence, if only to be reminded and assured that there is more than the aleatory and the anodyne, that it is the vital caress of your smile this most ordinary day that turns grass to olivine (and this can be but a mere weak and hackneyed reflection of your unspeakable goodness). That, for this particular vagrant at least, life is no solitary, accidental flight of fancy.