I’ve always wondered if heaven will feel familiar. When we arrive, will it be like walking down our street or eating at our favorite restaurant? I’m not sure, of course, but I can’t imagine it feeling foreign. When we get there, I don’t envision needing an orientation meeting. I doubt Peter is standing at the gates with a clipboard and red double-decker bus, instructing us to board for the four o’clock sight-seeing tour. No, I imagine heaven is familiar. Instead of feeling lost, we recognize the sights and sounds. It will feel like going home.
My wife and I have a tradition called Birthday Weekend. No matter what day of the week your birthday falls on, you get to celebrate your birthday the subsequent weekend. I’m not sure exactly when this tradition started, but we’ve stuck to it for several years now. Recently it was my wife’s birthday and we pronounced the biannual arrival of birthday weekend in our house. We were both excited to celebrate not just one day, but all weekend. I’ve learned that parties can always go a little longer in my opinion.
This past Monday was one of those days you just try and survive. It was an onslaught of frustration and stress, like the week just declared war against you. I lived in the tension for the greater part of the day, looking forward to going home and finding refuge in a nice meal and hours of mindless TV watching. But things didn’t turn out like that.
It’s been an interesting week for me. On Saturday, we dropped my younger brother off at college. I walked on the campus I once called home and was instantly overcome with lingering feelings of days gone by. The memories, joys, pains, victories, and defeats of my college years started knocking on my heart. Nostalgia was everywhere. I can’t believe it was nearly ten years ago when I first set foot on that campus as a freshman. Where did those years go?