You needed to know all that.
But really, today, as Easter is popping up on us in March, like a gopher, I am thinking about a lot more than the RT, I promise.
Yesterday I had some discouraging moments, as I couldn't work out some details with our shipping, and I'm just so tired of dealing with logistics for my whole entire life.
But now I take a deep breath and let it out. I have about fifty hundred things to think about. And the wild children are asking me if they can take down the walls in our house and plant thousands of dandelions. (?!)
Yesterday when we were sitting at the table eating, Chinua was telling me about his first experience in Israel (we are going to be in Israel en route to India) and I listened with my chin resting on my hand.
"It's so strange, because you get there and it's the most familiar place in the world to you, because you've heard about these places forever. But you know nothing about it at the same time, because you've never been here before."
While he was talking I thought about Moses and Mt. Sinai, and the Jordan River, and Jesus and the Mount of Olives, and I thought -about Jesus-, "Oh... I miss him."
It was such an odd thought, but one that I've been having a lot lately. He is the man that I've decided to follow forever, sometimes dejectedly, sometimes with singing, sometimes barefoot, sometimes with hiking boots on. I just wish that when I arrive in Israel I would find him one day, wandering on dusty hills with a bunch of people running behind him, hoping to see something amazing. (Like that kid in the Incredibles.)
Oh I miss him. He is with me, but I never read John's words, "That which was from the beginning, which we have heard, which we have seen with our eyes, which we looked upon and have touched with our hands..." without feeling a little bit envious. I had a dream a while back, that I was with a group of people, and we had found out that Jesus was going to visit us in the flesh. I was so, so, excited, and trying to figure out what I would do when he arrived. Finally I stationed myself by the door, figuring that I could touch his feet as he entered. But then someone picked up a guitar, and I realized that I had got it wrong, and that we were going to sing together, Jesus wasn't going to walk in.
But even getting it wrong was beautiful. One day I will see my wandering teacher. That is the belief that I write the story of my life on. He sets the lonely in families. That is the theme.
Traditionally, today is a day that he spent lying cold in a grave, and because we get to know the whole story, we know it gets better.Â But at the time?Â They were thinking, Oh- I miss him.
"He was despised and rejected by men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief; and as one from whom men hide their faces he was despised, and we esteemed him not." Isaiah 53:3