As I write, our British Nymans are winging their way westward, crossing an icy ocean en route to Chicago’s O’Hare Airport. Klaus is on his way to meet them while I finish readying the cottage for five very important people.

Hans and Katy made quite a commitment when they purchased plane tickets to come for Christmas. An eight hour flight with three little ones under two is a challenge even for the courageous. When you have a baby squirming in your lap, you can barely retrieve a diaper from the bag at your feet, much less accept your airline meal tray or eat from it.

As Klaus was strapping three complicated car seats into a borrowed van, he said, “Boy, babies are a lot of trouble!”

But even with three trouble-makers, Katy has planned with expertise, making lists and getting them completed. Although she probably didn’t sleep last night wondering what she’d forgotten, she’s one of the better organizers I know, beginning her preparations weeks ago. By yesterday, everything was ready.

In anticipating this visit, I’ve been making preparations, too. Because these five Nymans will be staying five weeks, I wanted them to really settle in once they got here. That meant emptying drawers and a closet, borrowing baby beds and readying the biggest bedroom. Preparing for this afternoon’s arrival meant digging out (and washing) the toys, stockpiling groceries, cleaning out the fridge and putting the extra leaves in the dining table.

It also meant setting up two high chairs and a junior chair, getting a sturdy gate for the top of the steps and baby-proofing the house: no candles low-down, nothing breakable within baby-reach and everything swallowable off the floor.

Lastly I did a thorough cleaning. Jack and I keep a casual house, but there’s something objectionable about picking up a crawling baby with black dog hair all over him.

I’m not sure Katy and Hans would call their vacation preparation “enjoyable”, but I sure had fun getting ready at this end. With each chore, my eagerness for their arrival grew.

During this Christmas season, I’ve thought about the time before Jesus was born when the Jews faithfully maintained a sense of preparedness, eager for Messiah’s coming. We weren’t there for that but do have a chance to prepare for his second arrival on earth. Just as I worked to be ready for the young Nymans I love, I want to also be ready for the Savior I love. I don’t know the calendar specifics, but that shouldn’t discourage me from preparing:

Am I keeping short accounts with him, confessing sin as I become aware of it? Am I living with an expectancy of heaven rather than finding security on earth? Am I daily aware the clock is ticking, working to make the most of time rather than waste it? These are good questions for my preparational list.

And speaking of lists, where did I put that British Airways flight info?

“The Son of Man will come at an hour when you do not expect him. He may come in the middle of the night or just before dawn. But whenever he comes, he will reward the servants who are ready.” (Matthew 24:44, Luke 12:38)

During the summer of 2009, Nate and I moved to Michigan and rented a storage garage for some serious possession- overflow. Three months later, we’d pared things down at the cottage and managed to empty the storage unit. So that afternoon I drove back to the facility to turn in my lock and key, hoping to get my deposit back.

The woman behind the desk said, “Is the unit completely empty?”

“Yes.”

“Did you sweep it out thoroughly?”

“Was I supposed to?”

“Yes,” she said, pointing to the corner. “There’s a broom you can use.”

I was in a hurry that day but wanted my deposit back, so thought I’d better give the unit at least “a lick and a promise.” Walking toward #35, I was grumbling to myself when God brought me up short, convicting me with Scripture. It was the verse about doing every task “as unto the Lord,” and of course he reminded me that this included sweeping out a dingy storage unit.

Although the woman couldn’t see me or #35 from where she sat and would never know whether I swept it or not, God was watching. Before I got to the unit, I began to understand he’d just given me a golden opportunity to make a deposit into my heavenly-treasure account. The only choice was to take up his challenge.

After opening the heavy metal door, I began swinging the broom with gusto, reaching up to the ceiling for cobwebs, down the walls for dust bunnies and across the floor for everything else. Not one leaf, twig, clump of dirt or bit of sand was left in that unit when I was finished. After yanking down the door, I swept the asphalt outside until #35 looked better than any of the other units. It was as clean as a whistle.

I returned the broom, telling the woman it had been swept, and she refunded my $25.

A year and a half later (i.e. last week), Nelson was back at that same rental counter, needing storage for two truck-loads of stuff. As the woman behind the desk handed him a lock and key, she said, “Turn right around the office, then go left and half way down. Unit #35.”

And it was as clean as a whistle.

“Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might, for in the realm of the dead, where you are going, there is neither working nor planning nor knowledge nor wisdom.” (Ecclesiastes 9:10)

Jesus told an interesting story about renting storage units. Actually the main character, a wealthy farmer, owned the whole storage facility. He’d built it because he was succeeding so dramatically he needed bigger storerooms to hold his harvests. His goal, sternly criticized by Jesus, was to store so much, he wouldn’t have to work anymore but could become a full-time party-guy.

Jesus labeled this man “a fool” because (unbeknownst to the farmer) he was going to die that night. Since he hadn’t made any plans for eternity let alone stored anything there, his afterlife was going to be dreadful.

Although I’m not wealthy and my storage dilemmas are all about a glut of household goods, the principle in Jesus’ story still applies: none of us should stockpile earthly treasure if it means forfeiting a rich relationship with God. Jesus wasn’t critical of the man for being wealthy; his severe judgment was solely based on the farmer’s trust in that wealth for happiness and security.

This farmer was keenly focused on his storage units. As rich as he was, he probably lay in bed at night wondering if animals might eat his stockpiled crops, if the weather would be good enough to produce a bigger yield the following year, and if he’d need to build additional storage units for future bumper crops. His mind was on his wealth, and his heart beat fervently for more of it.

Back in Matthew 6 when Jesus cautioned us not to amass earthly treasure but to deposit it in heaven instead, his main concern was not the treasure. It was that a focus on earthly possessions causes us damage, while attention to heavenly treasure gives us hope for a rich future. What we own today can captivate our hearts and consume our thoughts, pulling us from a heavenly perspective.

God wants us to center our thinking on what comes after this life, as the old chorus says, to live “with eternity’s values in view.” Scripture puts it powerfully, telling us wherever our stash of treasure is, whether on earth or in heaven, that’s where our heart and passion will be.

Many of us have to fight ourselves daily to keep our hearts in the right place. I’ve been tempted to view my children and grandchildren as my treasure. The majority of my emotionally charged moments have involved this group, and they have occupied much of my thinking. Mothering is an extreme delight, and my heart is with my children.

But by God’s standards, this treasure-balance is skewed away from heaven and toward earth. These “kids” aren’t really my treasure but his. I can, however, love them on earth in a heavenly-treasure sort of way: I can translate my focus on their lives into prayer for them and with them; I can testify to God’s greatness in my own life, hoping they’ll trust him, too; and I can point to God’s Word as the one anchor that’ll hold during life’s storms. In short, I can coax my children toward my life’s number one treasure, the Lord himself.

And if I should die tonight along with the farmer, my heart would be just fine with that.

“Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” (Matthew 6:21)