It is a slow Saturday morning with kids cuddled in blankets, my Mom is resting in her room after being released from the hospital for a cardiac issue, and I am sipping my coffee and remembering a dear brother in Christ who recently went home to meet Him.

So many thoughts. Remembrances. The first time I met Ken: I was really nervous waiting for a deacons training to begin at a church our family only recently started attending. Ken pulled me aside and made some wildly inappropriate comment. I knew then that one of my tribe had found me! I laughed and  often made a point to sit next to him at church functions, I could always count on him for running commentary, stories, and a little bit of mayhem. If there is a porch swing in heaven, I picture Ken there, swapping tall tales and asking lots of questions.

We had a scare with my Mom earlier this week, right around the time that Ken went home. I am very thankful to have her still with us, and recovering.  My mom and I have been though a lot together, and I am  glad to know our journey isn’t completed yet.

I think about my Mom’s life. About my grandmother who passed last year. I meant to write a blog post about my grandmother’s life, a eulogy, but upon retuning from our trip to see her, realized that I hadn’t known her well enough to do it properly. It was the work of her daughter, my aunt.

Who can properly sum up a life? There is only One who knows us from beginning to end, who knew all of our heart motivations, and why we did that thing that we did. Who knew where our trust was, and what we really believe. I think of the people I go to church with. I see the outer shells, often worn with many years of use. If I am privileged, I may get to hear some of their stories and walk with them for some small part of their journey. But they are so much more then I will ever know.

Those precious saints are the glory of God hidden in earthen vessels. One day, they will be revealed for the thing that they really were. On that day, when they take their places among the revealed sons of God, we will surround their traveling cloaks with flowers and mourn their loss. They are not lost. We are in their absence, but they are changed. They are like Him.

Every person on the earth is a reflection of the image of God.  Anyone who believes in the Lord Jesus Christ and  calls on the name of the Lord is the glory of Christ, hidden in rags. Each is a wayfarer in the land, and we are blessed to not travel alone.

I get caught up in my lists. In trying to meet expectations. In my own performance. I miss so much. So many stories, so many journeys. God walks among us, and I am worried about the state of my kitchen floor. So no more eulogies. No more loving people after the fact. I want to sit with Him, and eat at His table with His Beloved now and forever.



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