[My cousin Bonnie Baxter and her husband Todd live in Vancouver, B.C. She is a vibrant person who brings much fun and love to our family! Thanks Bonnie for sharing such a special moment - Steve] The messages over the loudspeaker fade and don’t really reach my consciousness, as I am lost in my thoughts about the deep things of life. I mindlessly flip pages in the magazine in my lap, and when I get to the end, I start flipping pages backwards, one by one, and only occasionally do I realize that I haven’t really seen any of the pages I’m looking at. “It smells in here,” I think fleetingly. I sigh and shift position – I’ve been sitting here a long time, and I’m tired. We have half-hearted conversations with each other as we keep one eye directed toward the only reason we are there. The room is loaded with emotion and anticipation as we all wait for the event we’ve been waiting for – with a mixture of relief and great sadness.
Suddenly, something changes in the air. I look up from my magazine to see her daughter holding her hand, and I feel alarmed inside. I realize that THIS IS IT. I think ‘oh no’, and then I think, ‘thank you Lord’ and then I think ‘oh no’ again. I can’t get up and run, but instead I sit, frozen, and staring, both horrified and wonder-ified at the same time. The others in the room realize something is happening, and the conversation halts and we all hold all our breath. The room becomes absolutely silent, except for the raspy breathing of the beautiful woman who is now a shadow of her earlier appearance. Her eyes look a little wild as she looks at her daughter, and then reality sinks in as we realize that this isn’t another scare…this isn’t just a pause in the breathing…she has finally arrived.
On one hand I was so glad for her! I was glad she was running into God’s arms at that moment. I was glad she would see her husband and daughter that she had missed and loved for years. I was glad she could speak, sing, run, dance. I was glad not to wonder if she was in pain, trying to read her every grimace and moan.
But it felt so shockingly sad too. She was really gone. I felt sad for my husband, knowing that he wouldn’t see her face light up again, as she greeted her grandson who she had raised since he was a young boy. I was sad for her daughter who had lost everyone in her immediate family – her daughter’s heart-wrenching cries echoed in our hearts and in the quiet room. I was sad for many others who loved her and would miss her stability in their lives. I was sad that we didn’t have any children for her to hold on her lap and look into sweet baby eyes and squeeze chubby knees.
I wonder what God thought when Jesus had finally arrived in the manger. I wonder if he had a mix of joy and sadness too. Joy that the plan to save us was finally springing to action, that Mary was such a faithful good choice for the mother, that Joseph had made the trek to Bethlehem, that the innkeeper agreed to let them stay in the stable. I wonder if he was sad too – he knew what would happen after this arrival, and things would never be the same again. I wonder if a bit of this arrival felt like a departure and had a twinge of sadness for the Father of all.
My husband’s grandmother, Mildred Monkman, lived a faithful 85 years and arrived in heaven this summer. She had 2 children and for a time, raised 5 more. She is loved and remembered by many. We miss her a lot these days.
I’m glad for Jesus’ arrival on earth too, and will be forever grateful for this sacrifice. Come Lord Jesus.
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