Heaven is a fresh cut lawn

Photo by Jon Tyson on Unsplash

Here are the words that sum up my feelings about my life from childhood to my late 30s:

I wish for more.

I wished to be more, do more, have more.

I always felt like I was missing something.

When I was in my teens and 20s, I thought I was missing a better job, a girlfriend or wife, better looks (which would help with the girlfriend or wife), passion/romance/sex (which required the wife that I did not have), and all kinds of other things like a graduate degree, a sporty car, and…wit.

I wished for more God. I wished to feel that I was living the “abundant life” that Jesus talked about (Gospel of John 10:10). I prayed all the time. I read my Bible every day. I spent time with Christians who yearned like I yearned. I went on adventures that I thought would make abundant life spring up within me.

A few times, I thought I got close to what I was trying to find.

But each of those times, I ended up feeling like Moses on Mt. Pisgah: The Promised Land is right there, right there, but I can’t cross into it.

But good news. Yesterday, I feel like I finally got in.

It happened just after I finished cutting the back yard. I grabbed a chocolate milk and sat down on the patio to take a break.

I looked out at that neat lawn where my family and friends gather so often to make memories. I looked at my son and his dog playing. I saw the stack of wood seasoning to fuel cheerful fires in our fireplace this holiday season. I heard birds signing and crickets chirping. I saw my wife’s flowers still blooming all around the patio. I heard the crowd cheering at a children’s football game at the park nearby. I tasted the chocolate milk.

I thought about the people in my life.

I stretched my legs and took a deep breath through my nose. I felt the cool air go all the way to the bottom of my diaphragm, filling my lungs all the way. I felt the late summer breeze. I looked up at the clouds passing by.

I thought about the people in my life.

And I felt and gave thanks for all that I have, so much of which I could neither deserve nor earn nor own.

And I was in the Promised Land.

I am in the Promised Land.