I played hooky on Friday. Actually, I ran away from home. But I'm back now, trying to settle into the routine of Monday morning life after a fantastic, wild-and-crazy weekend. Kind of a bummer, huh? Monday morning blahs....
I talked to a couple of friends yesterday who, like me, were experiencing waves of what I call post-holiday blues. Me? I'd had an awesome holiday with a dear sister. Talking, walking, eating, laughing, grieving, and just breathing together...life the way it should be. My friend B. had enjoyed a long week-end with dear friends - the kind you call family - in another state. For young R., it had been dinner with church family and shopping with a buddy. For all of us, it had been fellowship, affection, delight.
But by yesterday afternoon, all the goodbyes had been said and each of us found Monday looming large on the horizon. And each of us was experiencing a sort of sinking feeling inside, a long heavy heart sigh. Not that any of us expected Monday to be unpleasant...it's just that we were watching a delightful, precious season give way to the ordinary.
I have this same great sinking feeling when Emily and Dennis head down the driveway, back to Iowa. When the boys load up the car and drive off for another week of school. When all the Thanksgiving leftovers have been consumed and we pull out the math books again. When we take down the Christmas tree, leaving the living room strangely naked and empty. When I finish reading an incredibly good book. When Sabbath rest fades into Monday morning.
But this sinking feeling is not entirely a bad thing. Rather, it is a clue, a shadow, a reminder of something huge and eternal. We are created for community. We delight in rest and in celebration. We by nature long for the intimate conversations, the long walks, the quiet evenings under the stars, the raucous family feasts, the festival decorations, the shared laughter, the presence of dear friends, the clasp of a familiar hand, the press of a hug...we long for these things because it was for these we were created.
I find that the sinking feeling which once felt like sadness has grown to feel more and more like longing. It's as if God has assured me - "Yes, this is how it should be, this fellowship and sweet communion. And this is how it shall be, only better!" Each sweet moment shared with a beloved child or friend, each celebration and festival...they are small glimpses of the unbroken, uncorrupted fellowship that is to come. Appetizers.
Monday morning is already peeling my grasp away from a delightful weekend. But my heart sigh today, although tinged with sadness for having to leave what lies behind, is a sigh of anticipation...for what lies ahead, "further up and further in."
Isaiah tells me, "No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love him." Sounds like God has something incredible in store for His children. Based on the glimpses and hints He's given, I can't wait for this celebration - the one that has NO end - to begin!
found an old poem from baby felix
3 weeks ago