Where are you?

Posted on June 6, 2016 by Margaret

Although traveling has its perks, arriving home is best of all. But there’s one thing that trumps even that: greeting those we love when they’re coming home to us.

Recently I’ve had the joy of making several trips to the airport to collect Birgitta, Emerald, Nelson, Linnea, and baby Nelson (5 months) as they arrived from a variety of places on different days.

Each time while waiting, I scanned the mob of unfamiliar faces, squinting to find those special ones I knew and loved.

And each time, suddenly there they were, emerging from the crowd – my people.

I wonder if that’s how it’ll be when we travel from earth to heaven. None of us knows exactly what that will be like, but leaving familiarity and entering this new realm surely must include at least one nano-second of searching for the face of Jesus.

Scripture tells us that as soon as our souls leave our bodies, those of us who believe in him will be with him. But how will we know which one is him?

Long ago when I was 8 or 9 years old, I remember asking Mom that very question. It was bedtime, and she was kneeling next to me after having prayed. “What does Jesus look like?” I said, having tried to envision him as we talked to him.

“Well,” she said, “he was Jewish, and the Bible says he didn’t have any special look that made him stand out from the crowd. My guess is he had dark hair, brown eyes, and a beard as most men did then. And that’s about all I know.”

Later she read a verse to me from Isaiah: “He… had no form or majesty that we should look at him, and no beauty that we should desire him.” (53:2)

As a child I found that fascinating, because others in the Bible had been given good looks. For instance, King Saul was “as handsome a young man as could be found anywhere in Israel.” (1 Samuel 9:2) But Jesus, who could have created his own body and face to be exceptional in every way, chose instead to make himself plain – nothing special to look at in either form or beauty. So, I wondered, how would I recognize him among the heavenly crowd?

Today I’m still wondering. The marks of crucifixion won’t identify him, because many others died that way and will have similar scars.

So I thought of all my recent trips to the airport. Maybe recognizing Jesus will be much like recognizing my loved ones in a crowd. I know them well enough to identify them anywhere. Maybe as I continue to know Jesus better, I’ll recognize him easily when the time comes.

But even if that doesn’t happen, 1 John 3:2 says, “We know that when Christ appears… we shall see him as he is.” So, just as when I spot my people at the airport, seeing them as they are, I might recognize Jesus the same way.

And if all else fails, I’m confident he knows what I look like, so maybe if he notices my confusion, he’ll simply call out my name and wave me over.

“I will know everything completely, just as God now knows me completely.” (1 Corinthians 13:12)

Community Living

Posted on March 6, 2016 by Margaret

Back home in Michigan now, my mind and heart are often still in Hawaii, where two of my children and one grandchild remain. My stay there, acting as a nanny for Emerald, was positive in every way – except one.

Although I lived in a lovely guest room by myself, after the first few days I discovered I was going to have to share my space after all, with some very unwelcome roommates… three gecko lizards.

Hawaiians love their geckos. “They eat mosquitoes and other pesky insects,” I was told, “so we’re always glad to see them. We never hurt them.”

But being from gecko-free Michigan, I felt differently. Though there are no snakes in Hawaii (good news for my phobia), a lizard’s tail comes pretty close, not to mention its beady eyes.

My three roommates were different colors, so I could tell who was who – tan, grey, and green. Occasionally I’d see them together, climbing up and down my room walls on their sticky toe-pads with who-knows-what intentions. Their chirping, which sounds much like their name, would often startle me with how close it was, and I’d freeze until I could see where they were.

Because my bed was in the corner, I worried I might wake to find all three lined up on my pillow watching me. It was a terrifying thought and sometimes kept me from sleeping. Lizard-related dreams were frequent. And I’d often hear them scampering around the perimeter of the ceiling, just behind the beams.

In the end, though, I had to admit that my gecko roomies probably wouldn’t harm me, and despite disliking them, I would have to co-exist with them for the duration.

Life continually asks us to co-exist with situations (or people) we don’t like. God often sets it up that way on purpose, expecting us to handle it with grace.

Why would he deliberately do such a thing? Because working to co-exist with something or someone we struggle to get along with is good for us, tugging us away from a natural me-first mind-set. It forces thoughts about another, though what those thoughts are is up to us. We can fight against acceptance or work toward it, our choice.

I had no trouble being irritated with the geckos, but the truth was, most of my objections were in my own head – fabricated by my dislike of them. It didn’t help the situation to think negatively, though, and could have worked in my favor had I tried to accept them as the Hawaiians do. None of what I worried about came to pass anyway.

But all is not lost. Back in Michigan now, God is giving me a fresh chance to learn the same lesson. Once again I’m hearing the scampering of little feet around my bedroom ceiling, and not just three sets of them. This time there’s a whole army — of squirrels.

Let us pursue what makes for peace. (Romans 14:19)

Where is it?

Posted on October 16, 2013 by Margaret

The past 5 days I’ve had one happy experience after another. It began last Thursday with a flight to Albuquerque, New Mexico, for 24 hours with Susan, a prayer partner from our church in Illinois. We made the most of our time together, including an hour of prayer while sitting next to her swimming pool in the warm desert sunshine.

After leaving New Mexico, I flew to Colorado, to connect with 7 close friends from our years together at Wheaton College: Junior, Pam, Leslie, Cheryl, Carolyn, LeeAnn, and Julie. We enjoyed school memories, did some sightseeing, and caught up on each other’s families, making sure to lay the groundwork for our next meeting in a couple of years.

I caught a ride to the airport in the “early” car, several hours ahead of my departure time, to connect with Sue (another sister in Christ) at the Denver airport. Our 4 hours together were a lovely grand finale’ to 5 days of memorable re-connections with won- derful women.

There was only one flaw. Somewhere along the way I lost my camera, a trusty tool I’ve used for years to take pictures for this blog, among other things. On Day #2 I emptied my purse and suitcase, carry-on and computer bag, pockets and gift bags, but it was nowhere.

Though I could take pictures with my iPhone, the camera card contained important photo files and was easier to use. But after 4 days of searching, I concluded it must have been in my coat pocket and slipped out during travel. The only thing to do was let it go.

I thought I’d mastered that after our 2009 move from a big house in Illinois to a small one in Michigan, paring down our possessions by two-thirds. But releasing my camera was a letting-go I couldn’t master. What was God trying to teach me?

My “girlfriends” and I joked about my inability to stop looking for (and complaining about) my camera. But one of them said, “Release it into God, and he’ll probably bring it back to you.”

That sounded like, “Let’s make a deal, Lord. I’ll let it go, if you make it reappear.” I couldn’t do that.

Finally, after stewing all the way to Chicago’s O’Hare Airport, I surrendered. “Ok, Father,” I said. “I know you want me to let go of my camera, so here and now, I do. It’s gone, and I accept that.” It was a weight lifted.

By the time Louisa and I pulled into our Michigan driveway, I’d completely stopped thinking about it. It had simply been God’s refresher course in holding possessions lightly, a “skill” he wants me to practice regularly.

Several hours later, while kneeling on my bedroom floor pulling things out of my carry-on bag (looking for my phone charger), I gasped as the camera plopped onto the carpet in front of me.