Dearest Rachel –
I get it; on this day of all days, I should be telling you about the things I’m thankful for. It’s not as if I don’t have anything to be thankful for. Between being at leisure all year as opposed to just today, and having the ability to brush off the worst that the current economic climate can throw at one, I’m better off than so many people, thanks to you and your family. And while they’re all gone (and I never got all that close to your extended family, partially because it your folks seemed to keep them at arm’s length as well for whatever reason), I still have my family here within a few miles. They’re part of the church community, too, which continues to grow week after week, which is another blessing few people can claim to benefit from these days.
Speaking of which, last night saw nearly a thousand of us (well, the auditorium holds about nine hundred, and there were a mere handful of empty seats, so probably closer to the high eight hundreds. Nevertheless, it’s by far the most people in one place we’re able to field – and even then, they had to hold two services to accommodate as many as wanted to attend) gathered for a Thanksgiving Eve service that, I’ll not lie, felt like my ears might bleed. I’m too accustomed to sitting in either the back or the booth, so I’m a ways from where the action is. I won’t say it hurt to listen to – it was too great to hear everybody’s enthusiasm for praising God for me to think about such matters – but I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say it was a bit overwhelming.
To be sure, by dint of the venue, it was a bigger crowd by far than any such of these services we’ve ever participated in. It was deliberately set up so that all of our campuses would convene at the newest location – a Christian school that we rent for the weekends in the north shore suburban area – and celebrate together, as a single big church family. While we weren’t asked to identify ourselves by location from the stage (apart from those regularly attending this particular campus), it was pointed out that this might be a microcosm of what heaven could be like, at least just inside the gate, as everybody tries to ascertain where everybody else is from, and find those from nearer to their own lives at first. Songs lifted up to God in different languages – ours featured Spanish and Portuguese as well as English – or will it all be one unified tongue that we can all recognize? I found myself pondering the idea, and whether we’ll be asking after everybody we meet, or if we’ll realize that it no longer matters; we can’t (and wouldn’t want to) go back to our old life on earth, so why ask about what no longer matters?
Of course, all of this speculation on my part – particularly to you – is just silly. Of all people, you already know what heaven is like, and while you can’t tell me what it is or isn’t like, you have the ability to smile (or even laugh) knowingly at what I get wrong. Meanwhile, while I can be thankful knowing that this is a place I’m assured of – and that I will be reunited with you there – it isn’t something I can grasp in the here and now, and I’m to make the best with the imitations that earth can provide for the time being.
***
With that out of the way, the fact remains that the most interesting stories I can tell you from this side are the mishaps, the misadventures, the things that go wrong. Thanksgiving isn’t conducive for those as such (I’m not trusted with the heavy lifting, in terms of meal preparation, which is fine by me), and likewise, those sorts of stories aren’t compatible with the atmosphere of the holiday at it stands. Then again, some of the usual preparations have changed since you were here, and that might be of interest.
Most of this week has been a matter of finding out what my part is in the meal, and getting things together for it. The main dish is the vegetable casserole – which for whatever reason, I have to look up online because I never can remember where you kept the recipe (or did you just use the one on the container of onions?). Daniel and I could get those onions and the soup en route to Sparks on Monday (we had to pick up a few things for the food drive as well), but frozen green beans wouldn’t do well in the car while we were at the kids’ club. However, I did manage to do a last bit of grocery shopping on my way back from the ‘office’ yesterday…
Meanwhile, Jenn has made it abundantly clear that I shouldn’t be bothering to bring my traditional stuffed mushroom appetizer with me anymore. It’s not so much that she doesn’t like them – well, actually it kind of is, since it’s down to just Daniel and me eating them at this point. So, that was the main reason to stop at the warehouse club on Tuesday (despite the fact that I was dealing with very sore ankles)
Anyway, here’s hoping these preparations add something to the meal. For now, though, keep an eye on me, honey, and wish me luck. I’m still going to need it.
Letters to Rachel 