It has been more than a year since the family gathered for the Homegoing. The hospital room exactly as hospital rooms are. The conversation ebbing and flowing. Laughter and stories mixed with quiet tears and just plain quiet. Memories remembered. Family bonds strengthened.
My cousin spoke of how her daughter processed things internally, how, when she left the hospital, she would go home and clean into the wee hours of the morning. Their house had never been so clean. That memory arises as I write this, as I venture into the late-for-me hours of the night.
Though the thoughts I process are not as deep-seeded as a family member’s Homegoing, they are ones of the past. They are memories of God’s faithfulness, memories of God’s promises, and memories of how I believed those promises were being fulfilled. And they are thoughts of how I was wrong on the “how”, wrong on the timing.
I used to get angry when realizations of faulty expectations came. Instead, I now just wonder. Whether than change is borne from wisdom or feeling too old to expend that much useless energy, I cannot say. What I can say is this:
God is still the same.
God is still God.
Jesus still died on the cross and rose again that I might live a redeemed life on earth and an eternal one in heaven.
God’s promises are true.
And He has called me to glorify Him in all circumstances–because He knows the end game while I am still hoofing it out on the court. He knows the score board, the game stats, and who will be at the celebratory feast.
So as I remember the past, I wonder at the future. Not as a child wonders, but as a grown woman, knowing that her God has tomorrow in His hand. So tonight, I clean–both house and heart.
And whatever tomorrow brings, He will be there, too.