August, 2006
When we first got married, I asked Mike about some things that he would like for me to do. One of the things he talked about was welcoming him home the way his mom always did for his dad. At first my rebellious nature balked at such a thought. “What? Make him as though he were the center of my universe? What conceit! I’m supposed to be the center of his universe!” But then, when we visited his folks’ home, I began to observe his mom. I don’t think she was ever aware that I was watching, but I was, nonetheless.
When Mike’s dad, George, would walk in, his mom would drop everything. In fact, she would drop it before he walked in because she was anticipating his arrival. It didn’t matter if she were sweeping, cooking, or reading. It was set aside and she would scurry over to the door to greet him with a kiss. She’d ask about his day if he hadn’t come home for lunch; other times it was just a kiss. Then she’d go back to her task at hand. Such a simple thing, but it served her purpose of letting her husband know he was important to her.
When EIE were little, I drove a ton, taking Abby and Anna back and forth to school and then, after school, to their various activities. The three would ride in their car seats, sometimes sleeping, most times crying. We would get home late, with no dinner going, me grumpy and work to do. (And we didn’t even have that many activities!) Then as EIE began to get involved (in a totally different set of activities than their older sisters), chaos reigned.
As I bellyached to one friend about how ridiculous it was, she told me about her wonderful hour-and-a-half commutes to and from her daughter’s school – how they had such incredible conversations and prayer times. I was challenged to do the same. For a week, I tried praying in my car. No one could hear me over the screaming. I tried having deep conversations with the older girls as I’d be threatening the little ones for fighting. Finally I gave up. I hired a college student to do my afternoon driving. It was one of the best decisions I have ever made.
Now I get to be the good guy. In anticipation of their coming home from school I get a snack ready: strawberries, carrots with peanut butter, apple slices and milk. Or sometimes it’s what the kids prefer: fresh hot cookies, popcorn, or build-your-own-pizzas (Ritz crackers, squirtable pizza sauce, pepperoni and squares of mozzarella). Most days, I greet them at the door with open arms and a smile, look over their papers, help them with homework after their snacks, and then direct them to the piano or to their homework. Granted, it usually takes the form of nagging but occasionally I’m nice about it.
Recently, in light of the deaths of a couple of friends, I was thinking about God. I know that He knows of their arrival in heaven, but was He anticipating them, excited about their arrival, pacing at the door of Heaven until He could greet them? Will He be waiting there to greet me when it’s my turn? And with arms open wide and a plate of warm chocolate chip cookies (heavy on the chocolate, yet angelically calorie-free) on the counter of my heavenly home? Maybe the cookie part is not theologically sound, but I think the idea of God anticipating each of our arrivals is. He really does see each of us as special, someone that He delights to see walk in the door. In some ways, my hiring a driver is kind of like what Jesus did. He sent the Holy Spirit to do the dirty work – nagging, convicting, drawing, directing, etc. Meanwhile, He’s up in Heaven preparing for our arrival.
And if God feels anything like we do, I think He thrills every time we approach Him, at the sounds of our voices as we raise them in conversation with Him. I love it when Abby text messages me mid-day. Or when Mike calls just to say he loves me. I know that I love hearing my kids’ laughter as they come running through the garage door into the house. I can’t wait to see their smiles and hear about how their days went. No, I don’t like it when they come in arguing and tattling on one another. But even when they are down because of a tough day, I enjoy just being able to put my arms around them and give them a hug. And imagine God’s joy when I set aside a task to go talk to Him. It must be like winning the popularity contest that incurs every time you hear someone’s call-waiting clicking in and they ignore it. “Yea! She thinks I’m the more important one right now!”
I’ve seen a change in my kids since we started this new routine. First off, I am more peaceful, not having driven all over the globe. Secondly, Mike is happier because I’m less grumpy and some days I even put thought into our meals. And lastly, the kids seem to enjoy coming home. Unless they are carrying a paper with a bad grade or they got into trouble at school, they come running in. Right now I know they hustle in just for the food. But someday they will realize that the presence of a snack means that I thought about them before they even got there. And sometimes I like to pretend that it’s not the hope of cookies that brings them running, but that they can’t wait to see me too. Mike’s mom had it right: it feels good to know that someone is waiting for you.
Someday I will get to Heaven and find that new home that Jesus went ahead to prepare for me. I just hope when I’m settling in that I remember it means that Jesus was up there, getting ready, excitedly anticipating my arrival.
Like a rock,
The Submissive Despot
Amy Louise
Amy Shane
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