The Peak of Inspiration

Dedicated to all of you who have someone you love on the other side of the door…

The very best time of the day comes around 6:00 in the evening.  Especially on days that have been physically exhausting.  Days that I spent away from the family.  Taking care of customers, fulfilling contracts, providing a service, paying the bills.  Often, I spend the day on my feet.  Endeavoring to take care of those things entrusted to me.  And at the end of the day, I pack up the tools, secure the things that need securing, and make the trip back home.  I park the pickup at the end of the sidewalk and tread the 15 yards to the back door.  My feet hurt, my knees are sore, my mind is tired, and I’m just a little lonely for the family.  About halfway to the door, I get a feeling.  And I don’t think this keyboard will allow me to communicate it to you very well.

It starts with the knowledge that the work, for today, is done.  That there is rest and refreshment on the other side of that door.  The aroma of a home cooked meal hits my senses.  Somehow that smell finds its way outside and meets me, hungry and needing nourishment.   And I want to tell you, all the great things you can put in a lunchbox don’t hold a candle to a hot, fresh meal made by one who loves you.  There’s an element missing in a packed lunch, that no lunchbox on earth is capable of holding.   Next come the sounds of a wife at work.  Pans and kettles and utensils.  The music of fresh iced tea being poured.  Love in action.  I pass by the window and I see the faces of those I am familiar with.  Waiting for me to come inside.  I can’t find a word that describes all of this.  Anticipation inspired by weariness, with the promise of comfort and rest.

And I wonder, how was it for our loved ones?  I don’t know if dad was eager to go home, but I know that he was ready.  The tools were put away.  I know that he was tired, that his feet hurt.  We walked beside him as he made his way to the door.  Helped him make those final steps.  And I like to think that he caught the aroma of that feast, that somehow it reached him before he was there, and reminded him of what was waiting.  Things that can’t be compared with what we carry with us down here.  And maybe he heard the sound of the preparations, the music of a heavenly family at work.  Maybe he caught a glimpse of those on the other side of that door.  Looking through the windows, waiting. 

But here is where it gets difficult for us.  We watched them go through the door, were right there with them. And as that door opened to receive them, we caught the smells and heard the sounds of the preparations for that great supper.  We caught a glimpse of what that rest is like, their faces showed it.    We can sense the exhaustion in our own souls that we witnessed in theirs.   We’re tired too, and we can’t imagine staying on the job without their help.  We wonder, why can’t we all just quit together, go home at the same time.  Just call it a day, pack things up and be done.  Spare all this separation, grief, and lonesomeness.  I can’t answer that. 

But I can say this.  From my experience, the harder the day, the sweeter the rest.  And we can look forward to the time when we walk that last stretch.  When we pass by those windows on the way to the door and see our loved ones waiting for us to get inside.  Catch the aromas and sounds of the things on the other side of that door.  Lay down the old lunch box and prepare for a feast homemade by one who loves us.  Sit down at a table full of those we know.  Every face completely familiar and precious.  A place where there are no strangers.  A family, together at the end of a day’s work.  Make it your goal.