I came home earlier than I had planned for Spring Break (although I use the term “spring” loosely because it is much more like winter in North Dakota than spring). I came home because I am going to a funeral this morning. I am weird, and I usually enjoy going to funerals, but this one will be a lot harder because I was closer with her than I was to the people of the last two funerals I have attended. Pastor asked me if I would read some scripture and maybe share a little bit. I agreed, but I honestly don’t know if I will be able to without crying. I agreed because that is my role as a pastor. I emailed one of my professors telling her why I was leaving and asking her prayer and she emailed me back telling me she’d pray for the situation and my safety while traveling, but she ended her email telling me to “go be Jesus.”
It is hard not to think about God when you are thinking about life and death. I know that we will be celebrating her life, but while sitting in my kitchen eating cheerios and soy milk, I can’t help but think about what it must be like to finally be home. I don’t mean like North Dakota home, but home home. I think it might parallel what I do when I come home. I hate packing, so I really don’t. In fact, I realized while getting dressed this morning that I didn’t bring any clean clothes with me. I stuffed all of my clothes (all my dirty clothes—I haven’t done laundry in over three weeks) into totes and put them in my car. (That’s not all: I also filled a tote with dirty dishes so that my mom could wash them and I wouldn’t have to.) I think that maybe finally going to heaven will be like that. We have been washed in the blood, but when we start out, I don’t really think we are that clean. We are still semi-broken, what with the pieces put together like a mosaic of grace, but we are still broken pieces. Shattered fragments. But it is okay, because God takes you in His arms and just holds you as you watch all the people on Earth crying over you. When you get home, I feel like it will be like I have experienced (in part, but I know I am not doing it justice), that you will realize that you have no black socks and will start to freak out and then God will calmly and gently tell you that it will all be okay and hand you some black socks.