Homecoming

The airplane starts its descent and for the first time I see "dirt in the water". The first sight of land in over two hours. As we descend, the distant landscape draws closer and I see the trees, hills, and farmland of the Dominican Republic. They are different from the trees, hills, and farmland of Maine where I have lived for over 13 years. They are different from the trees, hills, and farmland of any other place I have called home. They are exotic; palms, tropical jungle, sugar cane, and then the south coast comes into view, the water different from any in the northern seas. Yet with all this difference, my heart says I am home! It is not because now that we do not own a fixed residence "Home is where my wife is". I did not feel at home in NY or Miami, even though we were together. No, coming to the Dominican Republic felt like a homecoming because I knew what we would find there; a reunion with the brothers and sisters of the Dominican church. I knew we would be welcomed with open arms and open hearts. I knew we would start off just like we had been gone only a short time instead of 21 months. All the things you would expect if you were coming home for Thanksgiving or Christmas. Now I realize that "Home is where the Lord leads us!"

Waiting to Return

“I wait for the LORD, my soul doth wait, and in his word do I hope.  My soul waiteth for the Lord more than they that watch for the morning: I say, more than they that watch for the morning.”  Psalm 130:5-6

Spanish swirls around me as I wait for the Miami-bound plane.  I could easily be in a Latin American country, but I’m not there yet.  Instead I’m in the nether land of airport-secure zones while we wait for our delayed plane.  CNN broadcasts its headlines into the room, but the only contact with the real world outside is through the tinted glass looking out on the skyline of New York City.

We all wait.  Some sleep.  Some read.  Some talk.  Some text.  Some work on their computers.  One man listens to music, his fingers keeping time against his temples.  A couple of twenty-something parents try to keep their twin toddlers happy.  Fortunately the little boy just dozed off a few minutes ago, but the girl, pink sneakers kicking the air, desperately wants to be released from her stroller cage.  An orange lollipop pacifies her.
We all wait.  For most the waiting is passive.  We have one assignment.  Get on the plane when it arrives.  There is nothing we can do to make the plane get here sooner.  There is nothing we can do to make our trip more pleasant.  All the preparation work was done before we got here, and we sit here waiting.

It is so unlike the waiting we are called to do when we wait upon the Lord.  That is an active, expectant waiting.  Like the psalmist’s watchman, I have worked the night shift when the first rays of dawn across the sky were happy reminders that my waiting for home and bed were almost over.  I was actively doing my job while I waited, but the streaks of morning light were much more exciting to me than the arrival of a delayed plane.

When it comes to waiting for the Lord and for His return, there is no comparison.  Every day I know His return draws nearer.  Even though I don’t know when it will be, I am sure that every day brings me one day closer to seeing Him, and I happily wait, almost as though on tiptoe.