My sentimental nature has taken me down a path that not everyone will appreciate, but lately I’ve been musing about “last things.” When this letter came in the mailbox I knew it was one of these little lasts. I waited to open it, savoring the joy of sitting down later with a cup of tea. In the meantime I admired the envelope, home-made, fashioned out of a magazine page with a fall scene . . . so beautiful!
Last things happen all the time. There’s the last time I wrote a silly note to my girlfriend in high school, the last time I slept at home with Mom and Dad, the last time I changed my child’s diaper. Sometimes we are happy about them, sometimes we are unaware of the fact and sometimes we are very aware of them.
It’s the unaware times that have me pondering a bit. There was a last time I held my child’s hand while walking across the street, the last time I kissed him goodnight, the last time I tied her shoes or cut her bangs. When was it? These are good and normal, but I get caught up with the mystery, being fooled into thinking certain things will go on forever and not realizing when the change happened. It leaves me wishing for another chance, but realizing it's better not to know.
In the meantime, these weeks have been filled with lasts that I am very aware of. It’s the part of our life that has been affected by a young pilot joining our family, one with a dream to serve the poor, and a daughter who happily agreed to be by his side, no matter where, to love on those she could. As grateful as I am to have this beloved family come home . . . I get choked up, imagining that last landing . . . his last words on the radio ... “Mike Alpha Echo ... Is grounded.”
The reality I’m facing now is that the life of being missionary parents has come to an end. Walking the grocery store aisle, imagining the bare shelves where they live, and putting something special in the cart. Sending Birthday parcels, planned out months in advance to get there. The “heart skipping” sight of that fifteen digit phone number on my call display. The restricted feeling of not being able to call because of the time difference and the getting up to see if any news arrived while it was our turn to sleep. We have rejoiced with our kids over their dreams come true while living there and we have prayed them through their tears when lonely and frustrated.
Life will take on a different normal now, but I never want to take for granted the things I desired when apart. Last moments can happen anytime. We do not always have the privilege of knowing . . . our last chance to tell someone that we love them . . . so let’s take our chances while we have them. It may just be the best gift we can give, without regrets.