I wait

"I thought about heaven, about how if we were shooting a movie about heaven, at the airport, we would want to shoot it there, and how in the movie, people would be arriving from earth and from other planets, and when the angels picked us up, they'd put us in their cars and drive a million miles for a thousand years, and it would be miserable until you got where you were supposed to stay..."-Donald Miller, A Million Miles in a Thousand Years

I've seen some of the world's greatest cities, landmarks, and artwork in the last two weeks.  I feel like I'm learning the world's deepest secrets with each new marvel.  

Yet wonder aside, all I can think about is Christmas.

This is surprising, because I really hate snow.  I'm working on civility with winter.  
Lately, though, I daydream in white; in snowy days, chai lattes, and mismatched mittens.  My head hits the pillow after exploring this new territory, and I am offered (nightly) the same dream: I am walking towards a light between three pines in the middle of winter.  I have yet to reach the light, but I appear happier than ever to tread through the pure and blinding flurry...honored to abide in that light as I face the storm that swallows me.
On Sunday, we worshipped at the American Church in Paris.  When we got on the Metro, there was a man with a music box and a saxophone playing the happiest live music that I have ever heard.  There wasn't one sad spirit on the entire metro.  As we exited the Metro to be in communion with the Lord, I noticed that the musical man was walking ahead of us rolling his music box to the next place where he might lift spirits and brighten days.  

 I thought of how every appointment has a waiting room; each destination has a journey.

We are all in waiting for the Lord, whether we know it or not- treading the snow with a sunny disposition, waiting for Him like we do each Christmas.  I imagine that although our true home can't be found in this life, the ride to heaven won't be "miserable until we end up where we're supposed to stay"...even if it is snowing.  I think it will be less like a bunch of miserable cars and more like a communal metro where some guy with tattoos and a saxophone plays the happiest song ever...a joyful tune in anticipation to get to church and meet the Lord; a perfect melody that precedes communion with the blinding light beyond the pines.