Till We Are Home

The woman grabbed her sister (both likely in their forties), brought her over to another woman who had to be their mom, pulled out her phone and took a picture of the three of them. Bright, big smiles. Mom, in the middle of her two daughters, smiling so proudly. A gorgeous night in the middle of a wonderful gathering. Laughter, smiles, and sweet moments following one upon the other.

I sat there watching and taking it all in. It was a beautiful picture, yet my heart grew more and more sad. I tried not to but couldn’t hold back some tears. I kept them at bay to stay put in my eyes and did not let them trickle down my cheek, but I couldn’t help to think on this reality in front of me.

Thanksgiving is here which means a gathering of family around a table. If you look at our table this year, there will be five empty seats. Our fathers died years ago when our kids were little; Isabel two years ago. And we’ve been robbed of our moms way too early because of dementia. 

Want to know some of my honest thoughts that come at times like this: 

Why is it like this for us?

Why are we robbed of our dads who could have been precious grandfathers to our children? Why are our moms no longer able to gather with us though they have not even left this earth? And why is my youngest daughter not helping in the kitchen and sitting so beautiful in her carefully chosen Thanksgiving outfit? Why have we lost so much, and why will we not be able to take those same photographs like others get the chance to?

Our mom won’t be able to stand in the middle of us to take pictures with. Nor will I sit there and watch my daughters grab their mama to take a picture of the three of them. 

I don’t understand. And it all makes me so very sad to think about. At our Thanksgiving dinner, though I’m grateful to be able to spend it with my brother and his family with us, it’ll be hard to not see some emptiness…some great emptiness. 

One Day, though…

One Day, when Christ comes with a great shout to gather the elect – those in the graves and those who remain – to meet Him in the air, He will bring us all home. Those empty chairs at this year’s table won’t be empty on that Day. No, when He brings us home to be with Him forever, He will inaugurate eternity with a great wedding and a feast to follow (Rev 19). On that Day, we, the bride of Christ, will gather around a table – NOT ONE SEAT EMPTY!! – to celebrate our Jesus. 

My emptying table at Thanksgiving points me to the very full table of the Lamb to come.

Peter tells his audience to, “set your hope fully on the grace that will be brought to you at the revelation of Jesus Christ.” (1 Pet 1:13b) Though they were living in a time and place where they faced great persecution and trials, through their days were filled with sorrow, Peter told them to live their lives for Christ and look forward to that Day. That Day when Jesus will come back and bring them home, to end their suffering and find eternal rest with Him.

So when I pull up my chair this year to sit at a table that feels heavy with sadness from those 5 empty chairs, I can’t say I won’t grieve. This loss is real and sorrowful. But, by God’s grace, I will still be surrounded by those who love me. My darling bride. My son and oldest daughter. My brother and his family. And, maybe, by God’s grace, He’ll also help me remember that it won’t always be like this. One Day, I will sit with my loved ones and the family of God at a much richer and fuller table to celebrate our Lord. And those tears that I cry today, that are counted in His bottle (Ps 56:8), will be wiped away, too (Rev 21:4). Forever. 

I can be thankful for this.