Dispatches from Home – May 2018

May 2018
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Just finished watching Kenneth Branagh’s remake of Agatha Christie’s classic tale of murder on the Orient Express. While watching the movie, I could not help but think of a time in the not-to-distant future–when my dear mother no longer needs me–that I too may take a long train ride in the depths of winter. I can see myself sitting alone in the dining car, looking out at the dying day resplendent in fading, lavender-blue sunlight. Perhaps those around me will wonder who the silent little old man is, somewhat out of place in a tattered tux and velvet tuxedo slippers. As I finish my dinner and stroll to the observation car, will they wonder who I am? What my dreams were? Whom I loved? Will they ponder if the love was unrequited? Or will they laugh at my old-fashioned manners and polite voice and mannerism? But as I sit in the embryonic warmth of the gently rocking train car, I will smile a bittersweet smile and remember. I’ll remember my dear parents and their love for their only child; a precocious child unlike the other children that surrounded him; a strange child that grew up to disappoint in so many ways…of this, I’m sure. I’ll sit in silence and wipe away salty tears thinking about the times that I tried and failed to accomplish all that which I wanted to do. I will think of all the people who touched my life and whose lives I was unable to touch. I will ponder my failures, which far, far outweigh my successes. And as darkness infuses the room with its peaceful solitude, I will contemplate my remaining years upon this mortal coil. Will I spend them in laughter or tears? In peace or pain? In loneliness or surrounded by those who love and care for me? Will I remember all the days of summer sun or the days of winter’s sorrow? Perhaps then, I will hear a still small voice that says, “Come home. Stay with me. Dance with me. Say you’ll smile that silly smile for me. Say you’ll hold me in your arms so sweet. Please come home to me..” It’s then I’ll know that one day I will indeed come Home. There standing at the door will be friends and loved ones. There will be eternal joy and happiness. Sadness will vanish. Failures will no longer haunt me. Tears will dry. And that love that I’ve looked for all my life will, at last, be found in the loving arms of my dear Savior. He’ll say, “Remember no longer, Andy. Hurt no more. You are Home, my child…Home.” 

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