Crossing Over to the Other Side

I've crossed over this week . . .  to

the beginning of another summer,

the start of my life at fish camp,

another fishing season 
    
          with new people,

           with children a year older,

               with changes I can see and others I cannot.



And you! You're crossing over as well, 

from one season to another, 

maybe from one life to another, 

from one house to another,

from one job to another,

with changes you can see and changes you cannot . . . 



It seems to me

Maybe going to heaven is like this.

The call comes . . . Some of us will get a chance to pack

and some of us won't. Maybe we'll take a small plane where we sit very close to one another, 

and even though it's summer, the mountains will still be shining in their snowy shawls, 

and maybe a skiff ride would come next, with a little dog (about to have puppies) and an amazing husband,

and your first glimpse of that place will feel electric and yet without surprise,

Yes, I thought it might look like this . . . .



And you get closer, and the mountains creep nearer, watching you back, 

and you land, and people you love are there to greet you. And you walk in the house. See how many have left their feet behind just to enter these doors!!

The hot water and tea is already on the stove,

and the windows are dressed just as you thought they might be,

but they're not exactly the same.


And the places and things you love are here, but you haven't seen them for awhile, because you've been away, in another life.

The very first day I follow the paths my feet already know, but my eyes are peeled wider than ever before

And look! There are even new eaglets in this heaven in the same nest I have watched for years. 

When we cross over

to the place called "Summer"

(to the place called Harvester Island),

to the place called Heaven,


We are leaving home, 

to come home.

The two will be so much closer than we imagined,

and we will rue that we didn't see it,  

We will rue that what we were dying for was already given

in measures inexhaustible,

now.

Heaven begins now

     among us, beneath us, above us, between us,

It will not wait for us to die 

to burst upon us the way it did the first morning here

when we sat together over mountains and sea

and he said, "Thank you for never giving up, thank you

for so much grace, thank you that all was not lost,"

and tears came into my words too, as I held his hands

tight.

And all is new again. But better. 

I don't know if you will hear these kinds of words

as you cross over into

Your new summer, your new job,

 your new loss, your new family,

your new life, 

but God is even now making all things new,

(and better) in ways we can see and ways we cannot,

and maybe it will start with the words we speak

to someone this week, or the way we listen to someone,

or the way we don't give up loving when it is hard to love.


Then, God's dwelling place is surely with us. 

And there, in those words, in that place,

you will finally be

Home.

Have you crossed over, friend, and found Home? 

From here, cheering and praying for you,

Gratefully,

Leslie

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