I’ve never been in a place where everyone was happy, but the
Charlotte/Mecklenberg Airport on Thanksgiving Eve came pretty close.
Because I’d allowed extra travel time for traffic that never
materialized, I arrived at the airport with almost an hour to spare before my
daughter’s plane arrived. I settled into a chair near the baggage claim area
and watched reunion after reunion take place.
A mother watched the escalator expectantly. Equally excited
were her two daughters, one dressed in pilgrim garb and carrying a basket of
dried corn, the other dressed as an Indian, complete with long dark braids and
a beaded headband. They squealed and bounced in delight when they spotted their
father. Stepping off the escalator, he wrapped his wife and daughters in a happy
family hug.
Equally excited, but without the Thanksgiving costumes, was
a Hispanic family of nine chattering and pointing to the top of the escalator.
They watched as each pair of shoes, then legs, then body descended, until their
tiny, grey-haired matriarch materialized. They moved as one to engulf her and
carry her away with their laughter, kisses, and smiles.
Off to the side stood a man about my age. He anxiously checked
the flight board, then his watch, then the moving stairs, then began the process
again. When his college-aged son arrived, he engulfed him in a bear
hug, a teary smile splitting his face like a knife through watermelon. “It’s
been so long. I’ve missed you,” the young man’s father said. “Welcome home.”
As I waited for my daughter to arrive, I wondered if this scene
might be just a tiny glimpse of heaven.
Perhaps loved ones we
haven’t seen in years are waiting impatiently, just beyond the gate, straining
for a glimpse of our faces. Maybe they’re bouncing up and down as they eagerly
anticipate our arrival. I can picture them, like my Hispanic friends, gathered
together, chattering eagerly about how good it will be when we’re all together
again.
But the best part of all will be seeing our Father, first
from a distance, and then, right before us, in all his glory. He’ll wrap his
mighty arms around us and engulf us in a hug that will last an eternity.
And then he’ll smile—a great big, face-splitting smile as he wipes our tears
away.
“Welcome home,” he’ll say, “I’ve missed you.”
What do you look forward to most about heaven? Leave a comment below and join in the conversation. If you're reading by email, click here to comment.
If you enjoyed this post, you might like "Anticipation is Half the Fun."
This devotion is an excerpt from Lori’s new book, Hungry for God … Starving for Time, 5-Minute Devotions for Busy Women.
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What a beautiful post, Lori! I look forward to seeing my baby, and my dad, and my husband's family again. I have missed them all. I also just long to wrap myself in the loving arms of my Heavenly Father and hear Him say that He's missed me! :) Thank you so much for linking up to "Making Your Home Sing Monday" today!
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