Saturday, March 6, 2010

Some days

Often when I pray, I use a phrase from the prayer Jesus taught us: “Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done on earth...”

What I mean to be  saying is “A bit of Thy kingdom come here, to us, today, please.” I pray, sitting in an Amish bent rocker looking out the second story window where beyond our yard I see people walking to work at St. Mary’s hospital, delivery trucks stopping at the Canadian Honker, patrons leaving Caribou Coffee clutching cups. In this in-between time while we wait for Kingdom to fully arrive I’m asking if God would share a tiny cheese cake of a thing to hearken us, and those we meet, to Himself. I’m saying I welcome a bit of Pasture into this house, into this day, even an atom of it so we remember who we are and where we’re headed.

Night before last I didn’t sleep much because I forgot to set the alarm but didn’t want to wake Denis by turning on the light, and whacking the buttons, so I kept watching the lit numbers until 5 a.m. which I don’t care that you get up that early all the time and think nothing of it, it was EARLY for me.

I was driving to Minneapolis (about 1 ½ hours from Rochester) to pick up my Mom at 7:00. She was flying in on the Marvin Windows plane. They arrive at a little terminal - tucked near the big one - that accommodates small corporate jets. CEOs with leather briefcases and the Minnesota Wild team, for eg, come and go. Security is drive up to the gate pick up a phone and tell them, “I’m here to meet the blah-blah-blah and the gate pulls back. No monitors, I mean none I see, no information, but really nice lounge, fireplace, bathroom with hairspray and shoe polisher, though I have no use for either. And fyi, people up in Warroad who have remote connections to Marvins can get a seat on their plane, for a price, and if they have room. Okay you really wanted to know all this, didn’t you?

So, I arrive and wait until I notice NO ONE is coming or going. It’s 7:30 and no Mom. Can’t reach her by cell phone or home phone. She’s left no messages anywhere. The desk says no plane is scheduled and no info but I can call Marvins. Jodi in Scheduling and Tours answers. Long pause. She says, O no. I think we told her the wrong time. She was supposed to leave at 6 p.m. not a.m.

In Warroad she’d been waiting forever out at the airstrip and there was NO ONE there either, but finally a guy showed, checked the schedule and said, ah. It leaves at 5 p.m. tonight. When Mom finally reached me, she’d hurried 36 miles back home to call as she’d forgotten her cell phone. The leather lounge chairs are pretty nice, but I couldn’t sit all day waiting without computer or book. And shopping for 12 hours at Mall of America is, well, I’d rather eat cockroaches. So I drove back home to work. Returned to meet her late afternoon. Again, I waited and waited, wondering what happened now, I finally got a call from Mom who reported, “We’re on the ground in Duluth! (pause) But we’ll be arriving in Mpls around 7:15.” She did arrive at last and we had dinner together. But I was wondering about God’s Kingdom arriving in my life on “this day” and whether it had.

You hoped I’d have some big message? Sorry. I’ve taken all your time to say I drove six hours and it was kind of meaningless and boring. All I have to report is I saw the sun rise – not an option at Toad Hall even if you’re up early. The colors made me think of melons. Layers and layers of hazy pinks, corals, salmons, purples. Fields of snow reflecting light so soft … so fleeting, it may have been my cheesecake for the day, though having a Mom, especially this Mother is pretty nice any time.


Jake said...

Thanks for this, Margie.

I appreciate that you didn't bring it to a big crescendo, actually. I think 99% of living faithfully is living in tension and waiting and hoping. And I think your blog posts express that tension really really well. So thanks for writing :).

Alina said...

Thanks. I needed this today. I must say I don't think I've looked at this phrase "Thy kingdom come" and thought of anything in the here and now, only future resurrection stuff. It makes a lot of sense and provides a lot of hope for my todays and tomorrows.

Jenny Poley said...

Appreciate your post, Margie. It reminded me a bit of what you said at L'Abri. God is in the mundane. I imagine this means when we are driving too. :)

Sandra Oster said...

Living in ordinary life. Not always waiting or expecting the extraordinary to be the moment to live. So much wisdom in that. Hoping you get a good, full night of rest tonight.

Margie Haack said...

Thanks so much for comments. I do believe God is in the ordinary - the landscape everywhere - even if you're from east of Fargo country. I often resist the temptation to think he's more in the sensational. If I succumb I'm poorer for it.

Catie said...

Oh, Margie. I've read through all of these (not the archives!), and I think that your humor is a golden thing, a gift to bunches of us who get queasy reading the earnest and highminded stuff in theological circles, and (I!)get cognitive dissonance from most bloggers abbreviated language.

Since I hang out quite a bit with folk in ministry, I crave the earthy stuff you point me to. And I just love the way you trowel into all the ordinariness. Best of all you do not take yourself, but you do take God very, seriously!
So hoping to meet you someday...
Truly, Catie

Margie Haack said...

Catie, would be fun to meet you one day. I love and need the solid theologian, but am wary and not very patient with the "earnest, high-minded. But am thankful God is also merciful to us earthy folk. Guessing we're on the same page. Nice. Hate digging "troweling" alone.

Edith said...

I've been in that terminal! I drove a friend and her mother there after the mother was at Mayo for a few days. I thought it was refreshing - so different from the main terminal. When we walked into the building, somebody came up and asked my friend's mom, "Are you Sarah? We'll be leaving as soon as everybody gets here." We sat by the fireplace while we waited. I liked it...but I didn't have to stay 12 hours.