It seems, sometimes, like all my time really is moving around like yesterday, today, and tomorrow.
Yesterday, we were driving back to Saskatoon, stopped for the night at Kindersley and spent the most uncomfortable night, ever, in a motel. But when we went to a part before bedtime my rural soul connected deeply with the silence, the stillness, the livingness of a small town.
Yesterday, we saw the place that we'll call 'home' for the next year. It felt familiar already, like I could look at the walls and hear the echoes of cries and squeals and laughs and chuckles; the familiar symphony of family that my wife conducts masterfully while at the same time keeping us all in the same key. We took the time to visit with some dear friends, people whose presence in our lives help us find joy, keep me honest (with myself and others), and whom our boys love.
Yesterday, I met Jesus, face-to-face. I was ministered to, with beer and ice cream, conversation and laughing. We love them, and they are wonderful.
Yesterday, we drove straight back from Saskatoon, so thankful that our boys travel so well, and fell immediately back into the routine of bath, bed, and pack for moving. It's that time of year again.
Today, I sat in my office and stared at the walls, not motivated to do anything. It was like anticipation of moving had sapped my desire, my drive to continue. What can I do? I thought. I've only a few weeks left. Then I went to the hospital to visit someone who was about to undergo surgery. Being in his presence, with his wife, and feeling as they ministered to me even as I did to them left me shaking my head at the presence of God in my life. I drove back the office to find an even greater number of people who took time to stop by the office or call today, each one a blessing for me.
Today, I met Jesus, face-to-face. They were wonderful, and I love them and don't think they'll ever know just how big a difference they made.
Today, I came home early. I came home to find that my children have, in turn, perfected some of my least favourable traits. I could not, in all honesty, do that much damage with an axe, a day off work, and a mission statement. In the midst of the chaos stood two very proud and disorderly boys. They are bone of our bone, flesh of our flesh, and we love them. As I write now I can hear them, chatting when they're supposed to be in bed, trying to squeeze out every eye-opened minute.
It turns out that Jesus speaks even when there's no words to use.
Tomorrow, I know I'll meet Him again. But I pray that his light with shine as brightly through me as it does through others -- that light that shines in the darkness and even the darkness cannot overcome it.
Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit, as it was in the beginning, is now, and will be forever, amen.
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