Eternity freaks me out

Confession: I used to panic when I thought about heaven. The thought of doing anything for ETERNITY totally freaked me out. And the stereotypical image of streets paved in gold and wearing angel outfits didn’t really float my boat. Why would I want to hang out on a gold street? Just what about THAT would make me so happy? And I guess it would be cool to have wings and all, but what are we doing to DO for ETERNITY?

So, the concept of eternity still freaks me out a little, but in South Africa I had a moment where I thought, if this is just a tiny glimpse of heaven, I’ll take it. We are walking down Rhenos Mountain with the beauty of South Africa spread before us, and Annette, Nelson, and Bon Jovi (more on them later) are walking behind me and singing worship songs in Zulu in harmony. And I thought – this is it. This is what it’s all about. Praising God with beautiful harmonies while surveying his handiwork.

If I don’t see my South African friends again on earth, I’ll see them in heaven. And I’ll be harmonizing with the best of them. I can’t wait.

Watch out - I may start dancing in church

Worshipping at Refilwe Community Center- the organization we worked with in South Africa. I so wish we would all dance more in church!

The fish story - aka I can now (most of the time) pray in public without getting the heebee jeebees

What’s different from last year:

As I’ve mentioned earlier, going on the mission trip last year was a complete accident. I wasn’t the “mission trip” type of girl; I was just along for the ride. And, forgive the tangent I’m about to go on, but what I gained far outweighed what I gave. For one, I acquired a fantastic “small group.” For those of you not hip with contemporary church lingo – this is a cross between a Sunday School class and...family. I thought I wanted to be in a “small group” of singles in their early 30’s (because that’s who I usually have the most in common with – at least life stage wise.) More boys than girls. And strong Christian leader kind of boys – the kind who would pray with you, drink a beer with you, and were also very cute.

Instead I’m in a group ranging from young to well...I won’t say ages, but grandchildren are involved. There are a few of us singles, but mostly married. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. We don’t talk about marital status very often. What we do talk about is how to live out what we believe. Faith, lack of faith, love, hypocrisy, the nature of the Holy Spirit, sex, doubt, prayer, money. I can cry, I can talk about people raising their hands in church when they sing (do I think that’s weird? Do I want to do that, too?) I can stop a prayer and say, so how are we doing this – is just one of us praying? Or are we going to leave it open until it gets uncomfortable and then someone closes? Or are we officially going to go around the circle so we know what order we are going in? I love it that there is a group that I have the privilege to belong to that is committed to coming together and supporting each other – for better or for worse. So much more than a Sunday School class. Definitely more like sitting around at Thanksgiving dinner and thinking, this is my crazy family that I love so much. And they will always love me because they have to.

So it’s June 2008. We are in a tiny airport somewhere in Mexico on our way to Los Mochis. Not anywhere near a city with cabs, hotels, etc. Just land and dust as far as you can see and the little commuter type of planes you walk out on the runway to get on. We are told three of us don’t have a seat and will have to stay there to wait for another flight the next day. And, of course, this just won’t work. We are standing in the middle of the airport and someone says, let’s pray about it. Everyone starts circling up – all twenty something of us. I am incredulous. And slightly horrified. We are seriously going to stand in a circle in the middle of an airport and pray? We are THAT kind of people? Someone should have let me in on this before I agreed to go. What are people going to think about us? That we’re a bunch of crazy religious fanatics? I’m of the school that prayer is private. And quiet. You don’t call attention to yourself.

And I’m a bit cynical. I think no matter what happens we are going to say oh, it’s “meant to be.” So why are we even praying? But we join hands and pray. And three gentlemen agree to give up their seats for us. This itself doesn’t strike me as a “God thing.” (Although, a now very good friend kindly suggests that I shouldn’t call some things “God things,” because in reality everything is a “God thing.” But you know what I mean.) So John Brown goes over to say thank you and kneels to pray with them. Again, I’m a little embarrassed. But he comes back and tells us that they are going on a fishing trip. And he tells them we, too, are fishers...fishers of men. Hmm...pretty cool, I think.

So, now we are in Los Mochis and gathered to talk about our plans. Chad passes out an unexpected surprise...shirts that say, “fishers of men.” Ok, this is getting cooler by the minute. But wait...it gets better. The next morning I open up my kit to see what we are teaching the kids. (Granted, I should have already looked at this, but I’m notorious for extreme procrastination.) So those of us in charge of kids gather to rehearse Vacation Bible School...and yes, it’s the story of Jesus calling Simon Peter, Andrew, James, and John to follow him and become...fishers of men. I get little chills all over. AND...the craft for the day is making bracelets with fish on them to symbolize what we are all called to do.

Now it’s the end of the week, and we are on the flight back to the states. And guess who is on the plane with us. You got it...the three fishermen. They took a detour because they got a free flight within Mexico for giving up their seats for us and had the best trip they’ve ever had – more fish than they’ve ever caught. At this point I can’t even talk about fish without getting all teary. I wore that tacky fish bracelet until it broke. And it’s still on my nightstand.

Just one small difference from last year to this one:

July 2009. We are in the Atlanta airport waiting for our flight to Johannesburg. 16 of us…and we don’t know each other every well. We are a random group of people who somehow individually felt like we should sign up for an AIDS Hospice Mission. We are in a crowded waiting area and about to board soon. And again, I’m incredulous, but for a different reason this year. Are we not going to pray together before we start this trip???? How can we even think about beginning this trip without group prayer??? I make the suggestion and someone says, of course…do you want to lead it? Sure, I would be glad to. We gather, and I start to pray aloud for what we are about to do.

This is somewhat of a miracle.