The Redemption Project - Longing

"In a little while," Jesus tells his friends, those he loves, "the world will no longer see me, but you will." With his eyes, a friend said the same to me this week.

On Tuesday morning 12 May, my wife and I had to make the terrible and merciful decision to say goodbye to one of dear cats, Shasta. He got sick the previous week. His congested nose from his recurring sinus issues kept him from smelling food; so, he struggled to eat. And though we tried multiple foods in several ways, Monday evening he went from trying to eat to no longer wanting to eat.

Shasta and his twin brother Corin, were named after characters in C.S. Lewis' The Horse and His Boy. We adopted them into our family in February of 2004 and they adopted us, making us their people.

If we're fortunate, we experience a special bond with one or two of our furry companions. For reasons only grace, Shasta chose me, and we shared a companionship these past sixteen years. When I was out of town for work, he would look for me, call for me. He would greet me at the door when I got home each day. And he was here with me, every morning, sleeping on my lap while I wrote. I often thought of giving him co-writing credit.

He came with me into the office Tuesday morning. I was hopeful. I put down two different kinds of food, which didn't interest him. Instead, he sat near the water bowl. I picked him up, set him on my lap and petted his thin body, telling him I loved him. We feared, but I still had hope. Dr. Madison, our vet, had pulled him back from the brink before. But just a few hours later, on an unseasonably cool and rainy May morning, we heard what we feared: the blood work was bad, the loving thing was to say goodbye.

And so, we no longer see him, physically; though, right now we see him everywhere in his absence. If you'd known him, you'd also see the holes he's left in this world.

Jesus' friends, we're told, stood staring after his Ascension. They kept looking for him even when he was no longer in this world. The void created by his absence made them long to see him in the flesh again. Maybe that's what drove them to tell everyone about the love needed bring together that world and this. So that the time of not-seeing could become the time when they'd see him again.

Shasta is not the first or the last who we will see and then see no more in this world. He joins our grandparents, Leanne's father, and multiple animals as those for whom we long, who make us want to heal this world's wounds with love; so, we can see them, physically, again.

Because, right now, Corin very much misses his brother. And I deeply miss my dear friend.

Eighteenth Sunday after Pentecost

I've had house to myself this week since my wife had to travel because of work And while there's a bit of pleasure in being at home alone, mostly I spent the time counting the hours until her plane landed.


Like many married people, we've had our fair share of time apart. Between work trips and the in-between times moving between states, there have been quite a few nights when we each dined alone and spoke only through emails and phone calls.


I'm not a big fan of the phone as my beloved will tell you. I miss something, particularly with my wife, when I can't see the person with whom I'm talking. And I tend not to talk as much or for as long. So what would usually be an evening spent catching up on our lives and our day becomes a half-hour or so of hitting the high points before we say goodnight.


It's difficult to really tend a relationship when you can't see the other person. At least, it is for me. My feelings don't change. The moments spent talking with the one I love are no less precious on the phone than in person. But it's much less rare that I feel that connection that I often feel when the two of us are together. In fact, in all honesty, I sometimes find my mind wandering much easier when I don't have someone upon which to focus my attention.


This is perhaps the problem I've had with God for years. As much as I want to sit and talk with Christ, as much as I want to share my thoughts, my day, my fears, and my dreams I far too often find my mind wandering. Too easily I drift from my focus to thinking about the leaky sink or simply becoming absorbed in my own thoughts. And when I do talk, those conversations are often far too brief in comparison with the rest of my day. Especially considering this is someone I dearly love and that for whom my heart longs.


My wife observed, a week or two ago, that God is the only person she is in relationship with whom she's never seen. There is good spirituality in the reminder that we see the Presence all around us—in nature, in the animals who share our lives, and in one another. However, this thinking does not make for great relationships. While I may look about the house and see many reminders and perhaps even catch glimpses of my love, it's nowhere near the same as actually seeing her.


So each night, as I hung up the phone, I looked forward to the day when our time apart was over and I was again truly with the one I love. Each night drew me closer to the moment I could see her again. And until the time apart ended, I was filled with longing.


Perhaps it is a feeling similar to that described by the Psalmist: "like a deer longs for streams of water." Yes, I long to see the One I love.


My dear One whom I long for, help me to see glimpses and reminders of you and draw closer to you until we are together.