We have a daughter. Her name is Hope. But I can’t remember whether or not she likes blueberry-peach pie. So this isn’t about her.
It is about expectation and anticipation and confidence. And uncertainty. And blueberry-peach pie.
Sunday was a very long day at work for me, which means that it was a hard day for several families. In the middle of the afternoon, Nancy texted me that she was making blueberry-peach pie.
I know Nancy’s pies. They are consistently good. I know Nancy’s texting. When she says she’s making something, she is making something.
When I got the text about the pie, I knew without a doubt that when I got home, I would find pie. It didn’t take away the hurt that I felt for families. It didn’t remove any of the hours between the text and the taste. But it did give me a sense of expectation, if I chose to remember the pie and its maker.
That last part is important. As heavenly as the pie tastes, served by anyone else, eaten alone rather than together, something of deep significance would be lost.
And through the afternoon, as the workday got longer, there was no condemnation, only words of encouragement and identification.
And a reminder of pie together.
We talk often about heaven. About someday arriving at our relief and reward. And I accept that the streets of gold may be as attractive as pie of peach (and blueberry). But I think that we often miss that the best part is the “with” part. A “with” that begins now, that reads, “And I am with you always.”
When I face temptations and accusations, both internal and external, I forget the with part. I find it easy to think that the orientation of Jesus swings from condemning us to commanding us. But what he says is that he’s accompanying us.
As we anticipate the pie. On the counter. After work.