I'm back. Mom felt ok with me coming home for a bit, so here I am. So I lead music today at church and it felt good even though we haven't practiced in forever. I thought it would be weird to just show up and play and not say anything about what's going on with my dad since so many people at church know that I've been gone and have been praying for us. So I talked a bit about hope. And even though things suck right now and I will never understand what the hell is going on with all this cancer stuff, I know that this isn't the "end." Our life goes beyond this. We are citizens of heaven. And at the same time we are here suffering.

We are here and we can't see things clearly. We don't understand. And God isn't just about "getting our butts into heaven" and He isn't just about us "living heaven here on earth." But we are called to live in this balence of knowing that "to live is Christ and to die is gain." I think that many well meaning people have reacted to tract leaving, Bible thumping, preachy people who want you to say a prayer so they can chalk one more convert up on their list that shows how well they have "submitted" to the Spirit, that they have left heaven behind with the fundies, seeking an idealized heaven of hippie love for the new millenia here on earth. But this does the same diservice that the first group does. It eliminates hope. Hope now and hope for the future. This is not the end. Far from it. This is the first page of the first book of an encyclopedia of books that continue on forever, in which stories will be written for eons. Stories that contain a joy that we don't know yet and which, i'm sure we couldn't understand. But it is a joy that we hope for and should be worth seeking.