Mourning Into Dancing

“Since, then, you have been raised with Christ, set your hearts on things above, where Christ is seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things” (Colossians 3:1-2).

“Ooooooo!” I yelled to Hugh, who sat patiently next to me in our minivan, “Let’s go look at your uncle’s land. I’ve never been out there and…it would totally be an adventure!”

We are here in rural Indiana for Christmas - 650 miles away from our house, visiting Hugh’s parents who own 300 acres and grow corn and raise angus cattle. They had offered to watch our three children so Hugh and I could go out to lunch and see a movie.

We told them we would be back by 6:00, but it was only 4:45. We had enough time to do one more thing before heading back to their farm.

I wanted to go see Uncle John’s land. Hugh grudgingly agreed.

We drove for a while and came to an abandoned mailbox. Old newspapers and other peices of trash stuck out of it. “Is this the driveway?” I asked.

Hugh nodded and stifled a groan as I wheeled the van down the long abandoned driveway. Grass and bushes hit the sides of the car as we passed through puddles of mud and ice. On one side of the driveway was an old toilet; on the other was a huge pile of discarded oil drums. We rolled over trash mixed with weeds as I bravely drove the quarter mile back to where the old house stood.

At least sixty-five years have passed since anyone has lived there. The roof has caved in on one side, and most of the windows were broken long ago. The door sat open crookedly, and piles of boards and trash covered the floor. An old white curtain hung in the front window, inviting in the cold winter wind.

Orange, red, and brown leaves covered every inch of the ground leading up to the house. We parked our van on the leaves and stood looking at the building in front of us.

“People raised families here,” I said as I tried to picture life in this now-deserted place. I imagined a mom watching her children play in the yard where the oil drums now lay abandoned. Hopes, disappointments, laughter, and anger once filled these empty walls.

Every once in a while I pause and realize that my life is flying by - that I am worrying about unimportant things and missing the fleeting moments of the Holy. But these are the moments with my children and husband that should be savored and breathed in, for tomorrow “the wind blows over it and it is gone.”

How would I live if I understood that my own house will one day stand abandoned? Would I spend as much time cleaning and organizing and decorating a thing that ultimately has no eternal value? Would I instead pour more of my effort and energy and self into the things around me that do have eternal value?

If I had that eternal perspective, I think I would laugh more and worry less. I would be spontaneous and tickle my children more. I would take walks with my family. I would speak kindly to my husband all the time, not just when I am in a good mood. I would sit longer in the Presence of God and not try to hurry through my prayer time so I can go complete some things on my to-do list. I think I would do less, but what I accomplish would have significant value.

I am going to ask Hugh if we can go back to Uncle John’s today and take a picture of the house. I’m planning to put it on my fridge as a reminder to “set my mind on things above.” Then I will pause and set my mind on Christ each moment - as I live out my life focused on loving Him and loving others.

Father, I love you. Thank you for the gift of an eternal perspective. Help me to live my life with my mind set on You, putting your purposes first. In the name of Your Son, Amen.