Y’all, I’ll be honest. This is gonna be a quick one. And I’m writing it Saturday night because this Sunday is Harvest Day at our church—homecoming. Mama has decreed that I am in charge of making beans and a vat of macaroni and cheese and picking up a 16-piece fried chicken box at Publix. I loaded my after-church clothes and music in the car this afternoon. And I’m going to bed early so I’ll get up early enough to cook.
But still . . . I’m thinking. If you’ve been kind enough to read some of my posts, you know that Dave and I have lost many loved ones this year. Our precious neighbor, Mr. McKinney, was buried a week ago, and his sweet wife is moving this weekend. She is blessed with children who love and care for her and want nothing more than to keep her safe and happy. And yet her life is changing dramatically. So is ours. The sight of a moving van in her driveway made my heart break. I know it’s necessary. I know it’s kind and loving on the part of her family. But selfishly, I will miss her so much.
I will miss the security of having this loving couple next door. They were wise and experienced. They could tell Dave and me anything we needed to know. They made us feel like we had a safety net. And now?
Here’s what I wonder. What if we’re put here on earth—what if we learn to love only to have death separate us from those we love—so that we will appreciate the pain of divine separation and the joy of reunion? What if every death we endure here is intended to teach us the painful separation of God from His Son? Of man from God in the garden?
What if it’s all about reunion? We must feel the pain of separation so that we will recognize the great blessing of reunion? That’s what I’m thinking about as we prepare for a church homecoming.
[Image by Joy Zaehringer @ freerangestock.com]