No More Ice Cream Cones

I watched as the school buses went by today, picking up and dropping off kids. I saw the many Facebook status posts where youth and parents alike excitedly talked about their children's first day of school. And my heart hurt a little. Just a little.

I took my youngest, Anton, to college on Saturday, leaving our home an empty nest. I knew there would be adjustments. Funny ones like not having to buy Frank's Red Hot Buffalo sauce or jars of Alfredo sauce. Not having someone to collect garbage Monday nights or unload the dishwasher. Not ever having to hear SpongeBob on the TV. Or walking into Anton's room, seeing the mess, sighing and just walking back out. But I miss Anton's wit, laughter, smile and company. It's very quiet around here. So when the school buses went by, it was just a reminder of his absence. And with my daughter 19 hours away in Rhode Island, the space just feels emptier.

I had a conversation with God today telling Him how much I missed my kids. How I hoped Brad and I had done a good job raising them. How we hoped they would make good decisions on their own, make precious friends and serve His Kingdom in some special way. And I lamented about the whole separation thing in the first place, and how I can't wait to have them come home.

That's when the tears came. But not from what I was feeling about my kids, but rather the realization that God feels the same way! He sends His babies down to Earth for a time. He hopes we make good choices, obey His Word, surround ourselves with precious friends and serve His other children. And He misses us! Oh how he misses us! He longs for us to speak with him, as I long for texts, calls and emails. He longs for our visits in worship, like I long for Skype times. And He can't wait for us to come home. How devasted He must be for the ones who abandon Him ... no calls, no visits and no desire to come home. Oh, how His heart must ache for those. Made me want to reach out all the more to His children to be sure they knew about the Father who loves them so much.

On the first and last days of school, I always bought my children an ice cream cone. This is the first time in 15 years I won't be buying cones. I wonder if the day I enter Paradise, Jesus will meet me at the gate with an ice cream cone? While I hope it's chocolate, I'm really not sure I care ... I'll be home.

Gift of Grace

As the preacher spoke today at the funeral, I noticed the woman diagonally in front of me start to shake. I could tell she was sobbing, and she brought a tissue up to her eyes frequently to catch her falling tears. She wasn't related to the man who's funeral we attended. She was a waitress who frequently served him at Cracker Barrel.

I guessed this was who she was prior to introducing myself after the funeral service because she started crying when the pastor spoke about her specifically. See, today I attended the funeral of the care receiver my husband has visited through Stephen Ministry for more than a year. Ken passed away unexpectedly Tuesday from a heart attack. As Stephen Ministry is a confidential, precious, caring ministry, I knew next to nothing about Ken until these last few days. I learned Ken had multiple physical issues in addition to dealing with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. Everytime Ken had a doctor's appointment, he later went to Cracker Barrel for his meal. Because of his OCD, it would take sometimes up to 3 hours for him to finish a meal. The pastor mentioned that Ken had a photographic memory, remembering detailed facts and dates. Ken even knew the Cracker Barrel waitresses' birthdates and their children's birthdates because he took the time to ask. My husband told me Ken particularly talked about one waitress named Patty. When noticing this woman sobbing in front of me, I deduced this must be Patty.

After the service I noticed her walking by herself, still weeping, heading to the mausoleum. I walked over to introduce myself and tell her how my husband had told me how much she'd meant to Ken. "You were truly a gift of grace from God for him," I told her. "Oh, no, he was a gift for me," she responded. Patty told me how Ken ate more than any man she'd ever seen before. She told me how she'd wait to put in his order for 28 minutes, because he always went to the bathroom after he ordered and it would take that long before he came back to his table. "I timed it perfectly so his food would come to the table when he returned." She told me how none of the other waitresses wanted to serve him because it was about table turnover and making more money. "But for me, it was never about the money. He was the kindest, most caring man. I'm going to miss him," she said before bringing that tissue back up to her eyes.

The pastor at the service mentioned that we move at mach speeds in today's society, but that maybe we all need to learn something from Ken. In his weakness, he exhibited the love of Christ, taking the time to get to know a waitress at Cracker Barrel, touching this woman's life in a powerful way.

By the way, Ken's birthday was Nov. 16, 1931. I remember this because the pastor made us repeat it several times, calling it "a historic day" ... because Ken was born.

Ken has entered into Paradise completely healed and undoubtedly rewarded by our Father for his caring spirit. I wonder if Ken had any idea when he took the time to speak to Patty, he'd be teaching those who would attend his funeral what the love of Christ looks like?

I'll be eating at Cracker Barrel soon, to visit Patty. Rest in peace, Ken. Rejoice abundantly as you dance in Heaven and know that your compassion in the midst of struggles will spread through the Kingdom, as we follow your example. I look forward to meeting you.