Out of Iowa

These past few days, I've been thinking about driving west into the sunset in a silver convertible with someone I love, a cooler in the back seat and an overwhelming contentedness sweeping over me. But if I look closely at that picture, I realize it's not me. In fact, it's the same tall, sturdy, middle-aged, bearded pastor who invoked this image in his sermon on Sunday, driving through Iowa with his arm around his wife of 20-some odd years.

He was asking us to remember a time when we thought things couldn't get any better. So he shared one of his. He and his wife were taking a road trip to California and were leaving in their silver convertible (a 25th anniversary present to themselves) out of Madison in the afternoon on a perfect summer day, perfect for keeping the top down as they drove out of town. The sky opened up, he said, and the stars shone brighter than they even do in Madison (which is awesome! cause compared to Chicago, Madison's city lights allow you to see a gazillion times more stars). What could be better, he continued, than driving into the sunset with your arm around your girl, getting away from everything? Just being here in the moment in ... IOWA?

You know where he's going with this.

It's Iowa. For as amazing as you feel things are in a moment - and thank God for those moments when we feel totally overwhelmingly grateful - it's not the end. It's not the best of the best yet.

Today, I had a good day at work. And I feel (and evidently look, according to my co-workers) "zenfully calm." And I felt like laughing today. I felt light, in that "things couldn't get any better than this" way. Of course, I'm stressed at work right now, and I wish a hundred things were different. But I'm happy for feeling this light in the moment. I'm glad I got to talk and laugh with my boyfriend over IM, and I'm glad I had such an honest conversation with an alum whose life is messier than messy, and I'm glad my friend Mark stopped by to have coffee with me, and I'm glad that my boss backed me up today, and I'm glad that I'm visiting an alum tonight who keeps calling to tell me how excited she is to hang out. All of that makes me happy. I feel like I'm driving out of the city in my convertible, headed west towards the sunset, my favorite people in the car with me and the perfect song on the radio.

And then I realize I'm in Iowa.

I'm grateful for today, but man, oh, man, my heart feels ready to burst just knowing that someday, things will be absolutely perfect. How they were meant to be.

I have high hopes for heaven, friends.

And one last thing - to Jennie on her birthday - I hope that today and the whole rest of the year bring you many close-to-heaven moments. For someone with such a big and generous heart, I doubt joy and wonder will ever be far from you. Happy 28th Birthday to you.