A New List

     As I'm sure you have heard, Norah Ephron, author, screenwriter (and wife and mom), died yesterday at the age of 71.  She had apparently been battling leukemia for a long time.  Like many of you, I loved her movies such as "When Harry Met Sally" (a classic if there ever was one--yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus and men and women are very different) and "Sleepless in Seattle."  A while back I also read one of her books,  I Hate my Neck, which was pretty hysterical and dealt with the manifold "joys" of growing older.
      I don't know much about her, but as I listened to the news about her death,  I was struck by a list she apparently wrote in her final book, published a little over a year ago.  Here is what she wrote:

What I Will Miss

My kids · Nick · Spring · Fall · Waffles · The concept of waffles · Bacon · A walk in the park · The idea of a walk in the park · The park · Shakespeare in the Park · The bed · Reading in bed · Fireworks · Laughs · The view out the window · Twinkle lights · Butter · Dinner at home just the two of us · Dinner with friends · Dinner with friends in cities where none of us lives · Paris · Next year in Istanbul · Pride and Prejudice · The Christmas tree · Thanksgiving dinner · One for the table · The dogwood · Taking a bath · Coming over the bridge to Manhattan · Pie

     That got me thinking.  First, what would I miss?  Ah, where would you even start?  Here are just a few:

Well, of course, my husband and my children.  Our dog.  Dogs in general.  Cats (even though we don't have one--because, well, this would NOT be on my husband's list).  My sisters and brothers.  My friends.  

     Okay, I'm thinking I'll be at this all day... maybe I need to get to the smaller, less obvious examples of things I'll miss:  Bright blue skies.  Warm sunshine, especially while reading  a book outside.  Chocolate cake.  Chocolate cookies.  Chocolate ice cream.  Anything with the word "chocolate" in it.  Walking on the greenway.  Early morning.  Beautiful music.  Charles Dickens--anything by Charles Dickens.  Daddy Cardinals.   Hot tea.  Diet cokes (even though I try not to drink them anymore).  Steaming hot baths.  Long runs in the cold (well, I don't really do these anymore so I guess I already miss them).  Huge salads.  Laughter.  Dinner with friends or family.  Going to the movies.  Having all my children home--bliss.  The mountains.  Sitting on the porch in the mountains--day or night.  Mountain streams.  Christmas.  Thanksgiving.  Birthday cake.  Gardenias.  Bible study.  Blue Herons.  Hydrangea.  Singing along.  Easter. 

     O, for Pete's sake, I'll be at this all day, so I better just end it now.  But when you really stop and think--what would I miss in this crazy,  challenging, wonderful life?--you realize just how glorious this world, this thing called living and loving, truly is.  

     But here's the second thing I thought of when I heard about her list: as Christians, we are not home yet.   Even at this moment, Christ is preparing a place for each of us (John 14), and He has promised that our future home will be infinitely superior to this temporary one we all inhabit.  So, really, these things we will "miss" will ultimately be items regained and glorified to be even more perfect in heaven.  This beautiful world is just a mere shadow of the greater and more glorious realities to come.  Majestic mountains here will be beyond anything we can begin to comprehend there.  Laughter here will be even more joyous and liberating there.  Music  and singing here, well, can you imagine the glorious, beautiful strains there?   Holidays and celebrations here.. well, just consider the kinds of celebrations the God of all joy and creativity and love has in store for us there!  

     I guess the point is, nothing is lost in God's economy... not with heaven in our future.  But in the meantime, rather than regret or indifference, choose conscious gratitude.  Write down your list--not of what you'll miss but of what  brings you bliss.  And then thank Him for every item--all those gifts from an extravagant God.   

     And while you're at it, perhaps remind yourself to appreciate and enjoy those items while you have them now.  Today. Pet the dog.  Eat the cake with relish.  Wear the new dress (instead of "saving" it for an occasion that might never come).  Look up at the sky and breath deep and be awed.  Smell the gardenia.  Tell someone how much you love their laugh or their jokes or their gift for organization or compassion or cooking or whatever.  Stop and really listen to your child.. and then hug them tightly.   Pause to really revel in the hydrangeas or rabbits in your yard.  Belt out a song on the radio in your car... and ignore any strange looks from neighboring vehicles.  

      You only live once, after all.  

     But heaven is coming... so until then, keep living, keep thanking, keep loving, all the way home.  To God be all the glory.