Heaven Song

Another fall break has come and gone. I felt noticeably less desperate for it this year; credits of course to our gracious God, my relatively VERY well-behaved students, and the restfulness that comes with no longer being a first-year teacher. Nonetheless, a week of nothingness was much anticipated and we eagerly awaited the small-scale adventure that might present itself within the Hoosier State boundary lines.

Joe took off to Bloomington for another disappointing almost-win by the Cream and Crimson. He enjoyed time with his siblings and I plopped myself in front of the TV with a sky-high stack of grading that I was determined to knock out before the actual fall break week had begun. I was unsuccessful but knocked out period 2, which on that day, felt like enough. We went to church on Sunday and prepared to journey southbound for a two-night stay at the Brown County Inn, a quaint and rustic Priceline find tucked right in the heart of Nashville.

Temperatures plummeted for our getaway, as a bitter chill pierced the October air and we woke up to a demoralizing white fluff on Monday morning. Optimistic and clad in many layers, we headed for the woods. Our hikes were accompanied by the most resplendent displays of golden-orange foliage that fell like confetti as we traced the trails. We rode horses, ate semi-frozen PBJs, and basked in the glory of God's Indiana Grandeur. It was bitterly cold but lovely still. 

Then, we ventured back to Nashville (small town version) for some warm fall feasting. We found a country-style restaurant nestled next to our Inn, where Joe spend $18 on two small chili dogs that would be $5.50 anywhere else. Despite our determined efforts to discover a dessert place, most everywhere had closed at 5. We settled on hotel hot chocolate and got to bed before 8. "We'll get an early start tomorrow," we vowed. "If this town closes down at 5, it must get going early."

How wrong we were. Our early morning endeavor was fruitless, and biscuitless, and coffeeless, and literally-everything-else-less. Not only did the shops and restaurants close at 5, 3 of them didn't open until 11 and the rest were closed on Tuesdays. We slugged sleepily back to the Inn and settled for two granola bars which I had thrown into my duffel. I think we both felt a bit discouraged.

Hunger takes me to dark places, so I found it was better to sit silently than to say something and, very likely, sin. After a long time of quiet reflection, staring out the frost-covered window, Joe asked me how I was doing. 

"Well," I sighed. "I think these trips are reminders that vacations aren't meant to satisfy us."

"That's exactly what I was thinking!" He exclaimed.

And we spent the next several minutes processing this conclusion: this is not Heaven. It's not our home. We aren't there yet, and we have so much to long for! 

And then, we just got to talk about Heaven. It's not something we talk about often enough. Perhaps it's because we can't picture it, or maybe we're trying to make Heaven out of Earth. Instead of praying for God's Kingdom to come, I so often pray that my "kingdom" here will be better: warmer, more convenient, less expensive, full of options, free from conflict. 

But perhaps those grievances, those longings, are God's way of guiding me to long for the Kingdom to come. Heaven IS real, and it is ahead of us, and we have only to rejoice that there will be a day with no tears or injustice or pollution. Abundant feasting will be ours and chili dogs will never be overpriced, and we won't even expect those to satisfy us because we will be in the presence of GOD! It gets me sooo excited to think about. I can't even fathom what living in perfect splendor will be like, but I want it. And I long for it. And I think if every vacation here were perfect, I wouldn't long for it at all. 

So today I rejoice. I'm thankful that nearly every restaurant was closed and that bitter winds froze our every hike. I'm thankful that there were disappointments and inconveniences and that we daily shouldered the heaviness of living in a fallen, broken world. 

Because I'm thankful that it reminded us to long for Heaven.