David will arrive home at 13h00 tomorrow (and there was great rejoicing!).
Then four and half days later (113 hours, that is) I leave for 15 days (and there was great sadness!).
But while I am away, I will be attending classes at George Fox (rejoicing!), celebrating my Dad's 80th Birthday (rejoicing!), and seeing my first born son (great rejoicing!).
Meanwhile, I will miss Chandler's first round of Parent/Teacher conferences (sadness!).
And so it goes, the crazy, transient missionary life we lead. I live the life of which Dickens wrote in Great Expetations: "Pip, dear old chap, life is made of ever so many partings welded together"
So. Many. Partings.
Some temporary, some seasonal, some indefinite.
What do you do with the partings in your life? Do you resist them? Endure them? Embrace them?
I can only imagine how the discples felt when Jesus told them that he was going away. I'd have cried like a baby.
"Going? How can you GO? We need you here! What will we do without you? Don't you care about us? Won't you miss us? Please. Please don't go."
And he left. With this cryptic promise: I will never leave you nor forsake you.
We know at least two reasons that Jesus left, after having conquered sin and death. He went to prepare a place for us, and he went so that he could send the comforter.
In preparing a place, Jesus says, "I'm going to make you a forever home" and in sending the comforter he says "I'm going to make your heart my home,"
Jesus leaves to put an end to the leaving.
And even today, should we be seperated from everyone that we love, he remains. His presence can be found in every corner of the earth at every hour of the day. He is my constant companion, my faithful friend,
But beyond that, Jesus, by the gift of his spirit, is the one who welds those partings together. In this, we can hold loosely to the ones that we love, trusting them into the capable care of the one who first loved us.
So I will hug my husband's neck these next four days. I'll gaze into his eyes, and listen to his heart, and hold his beautiful, scruffy face in my hands. Then I'll fly to Portland and eat cake with my Dad and laugh with my sisters and squeeze my oldest boy until my strength gives out. And then I'll fly back to France, and play games with Chandler, and run with friends, and kiss my husband again and again. I'll be wholly wherever I am, knowing that the Holy one is both where I am and where I am not--welding the partings together.
Then four and half days later (113 hours, that is) I leave for 15 days (and there was great sadness!).
But while I am away, I will be attending classes at George Fox (rejoicing!), celebrating my Dad's 80th Birthday (rejoicing!), and seeing my first born son (great rejoicing!).
Meanwhile, I will miss Chandler's first round of Parent/Teacher conferences (sadness!).
And so it goes, the crazy, transient missionary life we lead. I live the life of which Dickens wrote in Great Expetations: "Pip, dear old chap, life is made of ever so many partings welded together"
So. Many. Partings.
Some temporary, some seasonal, some indefinite.
What do you do with the partings in your life? Do you resist them? Endure them? Embrace them?
I can only imagine how the discples felt when Jesus told them that he was going away. I'd have cried like a baby.
"Going? How can you GO? We need you here! What will we do without you? Don't you care about us? Won't you miss us? Please. Please don't go."
And he left. With this cryptic promise: I will never leave you nor forsake you.
We know at least two reasons that Jesus left, after having conquered sin and death. He went to prepare a place for us, and he went so that he could send the comforter.
In preparing a place, Jesus says, "I'm going to make you a forever home" and in sending the comforter he says "I'm going to make your heart my home,"
Jesus leaves to put an end to the leaving.
And even today, should we be seperated from everyone that we love, he remains. His presence can be found in every corner of the earth at every hour of the day. He is my constant companion, my faithful friend,
But beyond that, Jesus, by the gift of his spirit, is the one who welds those partings together. In this, we can hold loosely to the ones that we love, trusting them into the capable care of the one who first loved us.
So I will hug my husband's neck these next four days. I'll gaze into his eyes, and listen to his heart, and hold his beautiful, scruffy face in my hands. Then I'll fly to Portland and eat cake with my Dad and laugh with my sisters and squeeze my oldest boy until my strength gives out. And then I'll fly back to France, and play games with Chandler, and run with friends, and kiss my husband again and again. I'll be wholly wherever I am, knowing that the Holy one is both where I am and where I am not--welding the partings together.
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