We have a son who is a freshman in college in another state.
So it was with great sadness that a week ago we heard the news that another set of parents had already heard, that their freshman college-aged son, Ethan Roser, was killed in a freak accident while at school, in our town.
I cannot imagine being those parents, getting that phone call.
One of my heroes is a man named Daniel.
Like his namesake in the Bible, Daniel faces lions unafraid. He so heavily leans on the Lord that the lions can’t get between him and God.
This Daniel, the one I know, spends his days in one of the most dangerous neighborhoods in Chicago. He goes because he cares. He won’t give up on those whom most everyone else has.
I’m thinking more about heaven these days.
What if I really lived with heaven in mind? What if heaven was my ultimate bucket list item, and all I did revolved around getting ready?
And then what if the reality of heaven really affected how I engaged with other people? What if I looked at everyone I talked to as someone with whom my interaction would move one step closer to or further away from heaven?
Winter wanes and spring struggles. My faith mirrors the hyacinths outside my front door, straining up through cold stones, longing for sunlight.
Easter catches me by surprise and I admit my heart is not ready to celebrate Holy Week.
I stop by to visit my friends Pete and June, newly returned from their first trip to Israel. Maybe what they saw there will bring hope to my weary heart. Surely walking where Jesus walked brings new life to Easter, even when you’ve celebrated it for almost ninety years, as they have.
Belonging gives me roots which dig deep under the black soil, holding tight in life’s winds and rain. When I belong to others, I grow confident and steadfast.
But if I stop there, I am just a barren tree.
It’s when I crave what is more—when I crave what is MOST—that my branches bud and bloom with the hope of spring.