Thursday morning westbound on Loop 289. It’s school morning drive time. They’re in the back seat, munching on a Granny Smith apple. So far we’ve discussed what Jesus is doing in heaven right now, where He’s sitting up there and is He tall enough to step right over the city of Lubbock.
The girls and I have a way of cramming a lot of theological discussion into the 15-minute drive to 1st grade.
Annie wonders out loud, “So we’ll get to see all our friends up there, right?”
Her question unknowingly intersects with my homesickness. I really miss all my friends back in the Phoenix valley. The people here in this new place have been more than kind. It’s made the hard work of starting life over not quite as daunting. Still, they are all new. Everything is new here. It’s the difference between the brand new loveseat at the furniture showroom and the favorite couch at your best friend’s house. The difference between sitting gently and not for long and flopping down, hugging a pillow and settling in for the entire four quarters of Monday Night Football.
New takes time to become comfortable.
Emma must have caught my expression in the rear view mirror. “Are you okay, Daddy?”
“I’m fine, baby.”
I thought she’d press the question. But it’s like she knew what I was thinking.
“You’ll make new friends here, Daddy.”
Who is this kid? Ten minutes ago we were standing in front of the bathroom mirror battling over ponytail vs. “some up, some down”. Now she’s Yoda, the life coach with a Hello Kitty backpack.
“That’s right, Daddy.” Annie joins. I love when they do this. The twin dynamic never ceases to intrigue me. They share a brain. And whatever thought they offer is delivered in stereo. “It’s just like the song we sing at Girl Scouts, Daddy.”
I was going to ask what song but all Annie had to do was sing the first word and by the next eighth note Emma was in perfect sync and perfect pitch.
“Make new friends, but keep the old.
One is silver and the other is gold.
A circle is round, it has no end.
That’s how long I want to be your friend.”
A relational reality of living in a fallen world is that those we love are never “all together”. Even perfect attendance reunions of friends and family are only momentary distractions; a weekend glimpse of what life would be like without separation. When everyone gets in their car to go home, we all go back to loving from a distance.
The Bible says that no one can imagine what God has prepared for us in heaven. That we can count on. No one does surprises like God. And just think what He can do with all this time to prepare? And while I can’t point to chapter and verse to back this up, I have to believe a big part of heaven will be enjoying all the friends we’ve ever made without the tyranny of a fixed schedule. There is a freedom in “forever”. Not the least of which is never having to say the word “good-bye” again.
Till then God calls us to “…one another” one another. Pray for one another. Bear one another’s burdens. Encourage one another. Cry with one another. Laugh with one another. Serve one another. Forbear and forgive one another.
We do this where we live, wherever we live. Making new friends. Silver, perhaps, for the moment. But they will all be gold up there.
With no end.
“Eye has not seen nor ear heard what God has prepared for those who love Him.”
– 1 Corinthians 2:9
Todd A. Thompson – April 25, 2008
