Thanks for Dying in Houston Dad

It was a frantic time there in late December trying to get a flight out of Alaska to Houston. I was on the phone for countless hours trying to get a flight. Night after night I slept fitfully on the cold floors of the airport hoping to get on a flight on standby. In the end I got not one but two flights. One that got me there the day after Christmas and one that got me there the day before. The first one I bought got me there on the 26th the second one I bought (with a different carrier) got me there when I needed to be there. So here is the irony – why I thanked Dad for dying in Houston. I had a nearly 2000 dollar ticket on Continental to spare – and Continental flies through Huston on the way to Costa Rica. So Mischell and I went to Costa Rica this summer. I didn’t really notice on the way to Costa Rica but on the way back we had a 6 hour layover and it all started flooding back. “Will I make it in time?” “How far is the Hospital?” “Does he know how close I am?”

Mischell was taking a nap in a chair and I wandered the big airport alone. I had a great trip to Costa Rica so I said quietly “Thanks for Dying in Houston Dad” while looking up into the air above me. Then I started looking in earnest. Where was he exactly? Up there? A little higher? In a particular place or more spread out? Where is heaven? Even as a child I was disappointed with the rather earthly vision of heaven as a place with pearly gates and streets paved with gold. What was with all the riches? Didn’t Jesus overturn the money changer’s tables and rebuke them for valuing earthly treasures? So that vision of heaven must have been a typo I think… an error or human transcription. So as I my feet slowly traced the countless footfalls of travelers before me I pondered the possibilities. Heaven is supposed to be up. Not down. But how far up? Is it enough that it isn’t down? What if it was right here beside us and we just can’t see it most of the time or ever? Where do they say God is? In Heaven - that is one answer. Another one is that he is everywhere. So where does that make Heaven? So slowly my face, turned up to the sky as it was, began to settle on the plane that I was walking. I thought maybe if Dad is in heaven he isn’t in one place far above me but all around me. I remembered a song I listened to with him – just months before, in my favorite movie about St. Francis. “… Love is all around you…”. Then I saw him and smiled. She was about 4 years old with a look of wonder on her face as her stroller glided across the mirror smooth linoleum. She was captivated by the patterns changing on the floor as her chariot carried her effortlessly along. And there, a middle aged man in a Hawaiian shirt with a bit of a paunch studying the schedule of departures in a solid stance. And the mother lovingly putting the errant curl of her 10 year old daughter’s hair behind her ear. A young black man with a brief case making a call, busy reaching for goals, plans, and excited about the future. An old man playing with a grandson in the way only children can. A plant reaching for the light. An old woman with a serene face and a quiet smile greeting the river of humanity passing by. The light spilling in the high windows setting it all a glow. I was comforted by this vision of Dad in heaven all around me and that light caught the tear of happiness and sorrow as is it rolled silently down my face and I wondered if heaven was standing there in me too.