Something I wrote in January and never got around to pushing the "publish" button...

January 6th

The reality of going to Hyderabad, India in about four weeks is beginning to press itself into the fore front.

Although the Christmas decorations and tree have been mostly cleared out, they remain in their boxes on the front porch and behind the couch, waiting to be lugged to their place in the “barn”. 

I wasn’t quite ready to let go of the warm glow of my pretty village houses and lit garlands for a year, their beauty was still bringing a smile to my heart.  But, my husband - willingly and of his own accord - just started dealing with it.  I’m no dummy, so I just sat here on the couch, determinedly knitting my first pair of booties, and I let him do it.  All. By. Himself.  Twenty four hours later he did harumph a bit when I asked him to please remove the unlit, undecorated tree that was blocking the window.  (The window that brings in the best light of the year into our sometimes dark house. I place a high value on light, and I was ready to let it come shining in.)  So, cold weather and all, the tree has been dragged to it’s place to die.  It is sad, really, because it is the best tree we’ve had in years and it was still alive.  In fact, the way you can tell how fresh and alive a Christmas tree is by how much water it soaks in.  (There's a sermon for ya'!)

Malorie and Austyn have been gone a little over 48 hours.  They left early on Saturday morning and did their drive in a day to beat the snow that met them upon their arrival in Wheaton.  I’m glad they have been able to enjoy a few days tucked into their apartment watching the beautiful snow from their third floor window.  

So, as I said, I’m going to India.  I don’t know why in the world I am going!  I have this latent Mother Teresa living inside of me who pops up her aching head and thrusts me into the third world every few years.  I guess it’s to show myself once again that it’s all really too much for me.  There is only One Person who can actually understand and do anything about the massive problem of human suffering which is rampant throughout the world.  Oh Lord God, how I ache when I look at the pictures of the the lepers we will be visiting.  I hope You will burn purpose into my heart and do something of value through me and within me.  How I need You every hour.

I truly feel that I am sometimes the most selfish being on the planet.  I want rest.  I want quiet.  I want to sit in front of the fire and think thoughts about God and His love.  I’m not really a doer first.  I am more of a be-er.  I can’t put a value judgment on these things, because both are needed.  We’ve all heard a sermon bashing one and lifting the other.  It seems that condemnation lurks, ready to pounce on the religious, willing victim.

So I say, “Get out of here, you religious spirit and leave me alone.  I could never be enough or do enough for you anyway.  Besides, you’re just jealous.  You’re the one with no purpose.  And you’re the one not needed.  So leave me alone.  Amen.”

That said, I think I will stop typing and breathe for a while.

I am in the saddle in front of a lake and it is lightly misting out. 

As the water gently tickles my face, I am reminded of the people with whom I "walked to the gate" as they entered eternity. 

It seemed to me that heaven touched earth for a little while, and it was kind of like the mist I am experiencing now.

I am remembering those goodbyes - comforted - knowing that for them it was a joyous hello.

I love mist.

As parents, most of us love to document the victories and milestones of our children's lives. We take picture after picture and shoot endless footage of brain numbing video because we simply want to remember.

We want to remember their first steps, their first birthdays, even the mundane moments between the happy holiday highlights of November and December.

With this in mind, are there milestones in us that God the Father celebrates and remembers?

What if heaven rejoices when we choose to believe even when our hearts are wrenched with grief?

Does God notice when we worship Him when all around feels oppressive and dark?

I bet it melts His heart when we declare before the forces of darkness that He Is Good No Matter What.  (It is a high honor to have the privilege of walking by faith.)

Being created in His image, we mirror Him in ways we don’t understand; if we celebrate the first steps of our children, surely He celebrates ours.

I look forward to seeing from His Perspective, but for the time being, I imagine My Father's Smile, and it spurs me on.