Thursday, May 1, 2025
(click here to listen to or read today’s scriptures)
Cat’s cradle
The Jollyville office of Austin Eye is spacious and bright, lined with comfortable chairs in front of the biggest TV screen I’ve ever seen. While Margaret is back getting her numbing anesthetic (which was very painful, by the way), this screen takes me to blue lakes and a pouring waterfall, then clover blossoms covered with honeybees. Someone is playing a piano, one note at a time, inviting me to think of the music as more than a Musak recording. Margaret’s 20 minute surgery will provide, we hope, relief from the pain in her eyes which she has endured for over a year by lifting her eyelids away from where they have been scratching her eyes day after day after day.
And I am thinking about heaven.
The one who comes from above is above all.
The one who is of the earth is earthly and speaks of earthly things.
But the one who comes from heaven is above all.
He testifies to what he has seen and heard.
Several men and women are waiting to see the opthamologist (20-20 is the phone number), and because it’s just after 8 AM on a Wednesday, all but one of those waiting with us are retirement age. Two receptionists explain the forms to fill out and what the costs will be today. “I just need two more signatures. There will be a $35 co-pay. Thank you. You’re all set.”
Of course those co-pays don’t buy this furniture or the thick rug I’m standing on, or that incredible TV. That’s the job of insurance companies. But as we walk in I can’t help but relax. We feel very taken care of. This is at least some of the stuff that earth’s dreams are made of.
Now Margaret is finished, smiling. “Are you ready?”
“I’m ready.” Margaret walks over, her eyes working fine, still numbed. “Just don’t rub your eyes for a bit,” the nurse told her. “And maybe avoid eye masks for a week or so. And take plenty of naps, and some Tylenol when you need it. See you next week.” She smiled.
“We have all the fun back there,” Margaret said to Abby, leaning over the reception counter. “I told them my superpower is to be calm and compliant.” Abby told us that on her extra day off last week she made a spa weekend, and she was happy to tell someone about it.
But still, I am thinking about heaven, as we walk to our car. We spend our physical days wandering among the dreams of earth – this lovely waiting room, our still-nearly-new Prius, our comfortable and living room full of potential activities, the patio which is sunny in the morning and quiet at night … our beds. We eat good meals and sometimes stop to get Krispy Kreme donuts.
We sleep, better or worse. We send pictures and stories to our kids and siblings, and often we get stories from them. I read and write. Margaret hopes her eyes will recover and she can read again. We watch David Suchet’s Poirot and his travel documentaries about Agatha Christie, and Saints Peter and Paul, Fit to Stitch and old movies on TCM.
The high priest accused Peter, “You want to bring this man’s blood upon us. And Peter spoke to the high priest, saying, “We must obey God rather than men.” The religious men with the white beards were infuriated. Peter spoke again, “You had Jesus killed by hanging him on a tree. But the God of all our ancestors raised him up, and we are witnesses of these things.
I’m sure the high priest and his colleagues had plenty to fill their time, as do we. They surely had important investigations and court cases, accusations and prizes to hand out. Most in their world looked up to them, expecting leadership of one kind or another. Everyone was watching. But important things got away from them as urgent business swallowed their time. Only 168 hours in the week, you know. No time to spend listening to Jesus, just one more power-hungry prophet. Easy for them to say.
But Peter would have none of it.
Margaret and I both prefer the dreams of heaven. I think the high priest would have said the same thing, in an ideal world. Just not the one he actually lived in.
The one who comes from heaven is above all. The one whom God sent speaks the words of God. He does not ration his gift of the Spirit.
Jesus draws me in. Our Father does not ration his gift of the Spirit.
But like Harry Chapin I too have “planes to catch and bills to pay.” Not much time to play with little boy blue and the man in the moon.
The Father loves the Son and has given everything over to him. Whoever believes in the Son has eternal life.
Every day I get another chance to choose.
(Acts 5, Psalm 34, John 20, John 3)
(posted at www.davesandel.net)
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