For the week of: Monday, January 29th 2007

"When Love Brings You Home"

It’s a crisp 20 degrees in the Mid-Ohio Valley tonight.  There’s a fire in the fireplace and I’m reminiscing.

In two more nights we’ll have a houseful of family at the Grose abode celebrating our oldest son’s birthday.  In Chris’ honor, there will be 28 candles on the white cake with chocolate icing. 

I do the same thing on every one of our son’s birthdays.  I pause during the day to glance at my watch, recalling what I was doing at specific times on the day they pushed and shoved their way into this world.   I know when the labor pains started; I know when we trekked to the hospital.  I know what the labor room looked like and how I wanted so desperately to keep them safe just a little longer before they became subjected to the world.  I can still see their Daddy gently holding them and talking quietly to them before laying them beside me to cuddle.

Chris arrived on a Tuesday afternoon and was welcomed by a host of family members and blessed with prayer by his Grandpas. There were some precious moments as one Grandma proudly announced that he had a “perfect” round head, another made sure he had all his toes.  I bristled at the nurse who insisted he wake up to eat, thumping the sole of his foot with her finger to waken him.

The next few days were packed with visitors, presents, flowers, staring at him and marveling at the miracle of him, dreaming of days at playgrounds, piano playing and Christmas celebrations.  I remember so much about those first few days.  But I do believe one of the tenderest memories came on the day we brought our son home.

We were fairly certain I would be released on Saturday, but when Rick left the hospital Friday night, we still didn’t have the final thumbs up.  Rick arrived Saturday morning before my breakfast tray even arrived determined to catch the doctor as he made his rounds.  Gratefully, the doctor wasn’t delayed by an emergency and stopped by a few minutes after Rick arrived, giving last minute instructions and signing discharge papers.

Now please let me explain one little piece of this story…I like to pack my suitcase with some forethought.  You know, some planning and organization.  I had packed it carefully before coming to the hospital and I had every intention of repeating the process upon leaving the hospital. 

In my head I was picturing a warm shower, resting for a few minutes, dressing in my going home clothes, resting a few more minutes (labor’s exhausting isn’t it!), dressing Chris in his adorable little going home outfit and then methodically packing my belongings.

This, however, was how it played out. 

The minute (and I mean there was no lapse in time)…the minute the doctor spit out the words, “You can go home as soon as you’re ready,” Rick took a giant step toward the closet, pulled out my suitcase and swiped the contents of every flat surface into the suitcase.  Nothing was folded, nothing was situated carefully.  Bottles of hospital mouthwash tumbled in beside nursing pads.  Discharge instructions were buried beneath the bedpan (gotta love it when they give you your very own bedpan to take home). Over and over he kept declaring, “I’m going to take my boy home, I’m going to take my boy home.”

I gave him a look intended to slow down his frantic behavior but he stopped and looked at me with the proudest blue eyes I do believe I had ever seen and said, ‘But I wanna take my boy home.”

The scene played out two more times, once 21 months later with the birth of our Brian and then 17 months later with the arrival of our Jeff.  This Daddy just wanted to get his boys home. 

Now I happen to be very impressed with God’s sense of organization and planning.  Look how well thought out the building of the ark was.  And talk about covering all the details…go back and read the instructions for the tabernacle.  Our God is a planner! 

But you know what, I believe with all my heart that when the last day dawns and the trumpet sounds and His Son comes in the Eastern sky with his angels, Father is going to send Jesus off with a directive, “Bring my children home.”  Nothing will deter Him, nothing will interfere.  He’ll be here and we’ll be swept up in the clouds, headed for home. 

Oh dear one, He delights in you.  You have captured His heart and He adores you.  His mercy washes over you in wave upon wave and His love is unfailing.  Nothing is going to keep Him from bringing you home.  He’ll sweep aside the clouds, lift you to the heavens and you will see Him face to face. 

Forget about carefully packing; ignore those who tell you everything will need to be perfect before you can go Home.  Just wake every day with the knowledge that the Creator of the universe is your Father, surrender every piece of your heart, mind and Spirit to Him, acknowledge His authority in your life, dedicate yourself to mimicking His Son’s behavior to those around you, tell those who might not know of His faithful promises and then listen for the trumpet.  His love will

bring you home.

Longing for home,

Kay