Good morning…
To the beaming light of a big full moon, we left rural Pennsylvania at 3:34 am. Sipping on freshly brewed coffee. Debriefing from our visit with extended family. Listening to all of the episodes in a podcast called “Who Killed Mars Hill?” Stopping twice for gas, potty and food, we pulled into our Atlanta driveway at 4:54 pm, nearly thirteen and a half hours later. The marvelous moon illuminated our path into the cloudy light of a long, long day.
There are transitional days in every life which begin in one place and end in another. Along our way, we got word that an older, longtime friend had been released from her hard cancer battle into the comforts of heaven. Stepping over the threshold of our home, we received a call that a younger man – father, physician, friend – had just died in a jet skiing accident. Both of these beloved, ordinary people began their day in one place and ended it in another.
More keenly aware of the sacredness of life, I relaxed into our messy home – an earthly home to which our young adult kids had temporarily tended. I cozied into deep gratitude for what was, what is, what always will be, mixed emotions, complications and flexible facets of a full life.
Embodying small joys along life’s way, we sip, we debrief, we listen. To the light of the waxing and waning moon, we eventually exhale into the full presence of God. We are convinced that even if these bodies we live in are folded up at death like tents, we will still have a God-built home that no human hands have built, which will last forever in the heavenly realm (2 Corinthians 5:1, TPT).
…Sue…
