I don’t travel much. Not a business traveler. I have gone away for extended continuing education or other ministry trips; New Orleans, Detroit. I went to Puerto Rico once in college--my only trip off the mainland. But it looks like I’m going to Ft. Myers Fla in Febuary for an ELCA World Hunger leaders gathering. Anyway, I’m never gone that long. My parents rarely traveled either, farmers are rooted to their land. So I haven’t experienced the feeling of being welcomed home or welcoming someone after a long time apart. I have this image of coming off an airplane and coming down an escalator and someone holding a sign up with my name on it. Mr. Lenahan. Someone waiting for my arrival. Or maybe a party waiting for my arrival. I wonder if going to heaven is like that? Escalator reversed, robed apostles and angels waiting at the gate, Peter holding the sign, no baggage to claim—not lost luggage, just unnecessary. I guess some of us view heaven as an arrival, a homecoming.
Yesterday’s Lancaster newspaper had a front page article about a surprise homecoming for a local family at Clay elementary school this week. Two kids whose mom has been deployed in Iraq for about a year received a huge surprise at an assembly where they unwrapped a refrigerator box present to find that the prize they had “won” was their mom’s early discharge. I think about family’s with loved ones on deployment waiting for that person to come home. For a year they carry a sign around in their hearts and minds with “mom”, or “Dad”, “spouse”, or “son”, or “daughter” on it. Advent is about waiting for someone to come. So, what does that feel like? I guess to get at that we need to dig into our own personal stuff a little. So...
