A Taste of Heaven

On Friday evening, I had the blessing and honor, once again, of sitting around the table with three of my favorite people in the world; my lovely wife Kelly and my Mom and Dad. It's not that they are the only highly regarded people in my life. There are others I love to spend time with. In the counsel of His will, this evening God saw fit that the four of us would gather.

I cherish the company, the home-cooked meal, and the conversation more and more as time passes on. I know that evenings like this are not forever in this life, so I enjoy them all the more while they are still possible.

Kelly and I bring two bottles of red wine to go with the sirloin steak my Mom prepares on the grill. While she prepares, my Dad has me open one of the bottles. Glasses are distributed, and the wine is poured. Mom places a basket of bread freshly baked that afternoon, along with a tossed salad. I can tell she loves having us there as she lovingly prepares the food while participating in the conversation.

My Dad sits at the head of the table, sharing the appetizers and sipping his wine while asking Mom if there is anything he can do. "No, sit and enjoy," is my Mom's blessing. I could tell it is a labor of love as I could see she is in some pain as she passes back and forth from the grill, the stove, and the table. I get the sense that her ailments don't bother her as much as she imitates Martha, while, at the same time, she reminds me of Mary sitting at the feet of Jesus in her humble devotion to her Lord.

It isn't long before we are caught up in the 7th heaven of koinonia. We bless one another by taking turns both listening intently and sharing honestly. I hear stories I've never heard before. One moment we are laughing, and the next, tears overflow our hearts.

Kelly shares about the loss of her beloved grandmother, who, before she died, blessed her with a blessing that will remain one of those memories that will forever cause her to choke on her tears. She shares stories of her grandmother's kindness throughout her life.

This prompts my Mom to share about her own grandmother, Noni Carbone, who was a haven of peace throughout her tumultuous childhood. Mom shares the pain of one of her grandchildren who experienced unspeakable loss at an early age and how she had to be there for her. I think how Noni's legacy lived on through my Mom's kindness.

My Dad tells about his childhood, roaming the streets of Torrington. He relays the hunting story of how he got lost in the wood of Vermont and how his father found him because of a tin can lid whistle my Dad carried with him in his pocket. He tells about his father's untimely death, how his father never told him he loved him throughout his life. He tearfully shares how he saw the love in his father's eyes as he lay on his premature deathbed.

I share about my life and my loss and God's incredible blessing on me over the past several years. Mostly, I try not to breathe. I want to take in the moment, knowing that times like these will become the thing of the past and a hope for the future. Many other life stories were shared, which I will store in my heart and cherish for the rest of my life.

Amid our fellowship, I can't ignore the gnawing feeling I get when I think about other family members missing out. Some members of my family are locked in the prison of lies. I feel sorry for them. Some members believe my Mom and Dad are horrible people. One even pronounced them "dead." Even as I write these words, I shake my head in sadness, knowing that such hatred is self-defeating and, in the end, hurts the hater more than the hated, though it takes its toll on my parents as they bathe the pain in forgiveness.

I have members of my own family that believe horrible lies about me, so I know how it feels. All I can do is pray and wait for the day when their delusions are broken. It's sad, but I refuse to let their hate quench the fire of love in the hearth of my heart.

I often wonder how God will make it "okay" that some people we know and love in this life will not be at the Marriage Feast of the Lamb. I have hope that relationships will be repaired in this life. I say to Kelly, Mom, and Dad that there is still a "lot of water to go over the damn," which means I will not give up hope for reconciliation in this life.

I know that when my Mom and Dad go to be with the Lord, that I will not grieve as painfully as those who have cut themselves off from them. My pain will be more for the other’s loss when they realize they squandered years of love, fellowship, and enjoyment. I hope they reconcile. If they don't, it means their hearts have become hard and that is the saddest of all.

Those matters I leave to God and to prayer. In the meantime, I look forward to this afternoon when I will sit around yet another table with more family members as we celebrate the resurrection of Jesus our Lord. I know that each table is a taste of heaven, giving us glimpses of the one final Feast of Christ upon the full consummation of His Marriage to His Bride.

A picture from our Sunday afternoon resurrection Sunday meal.