This week I cooked a traditional dinner, a “three-pile-meal” as we used to call them when the kids were growing up: meat, veggie, and starch. I haven’t done much three-pile cooking since Nate died, but I go back to it when others join me at the table.
This time, however, when I made such a meal, I did a little gambling. I had promised to make “cheesy potatoes,” Betty Crocker’s version of homemade scallops, which comes in a box. Since her products are laced with preservatives, I figured the expiration date didn’t really matter.
After dinner I said, “So… how were the potatoes?”
“Great!” said Nelson.
“Tasted fine,” said Birgitta.
“Especially good!” said Louisa.
“I’m glad,” I said, “because they were nearly 3 years expired.”
* * * * *
Processed food isn’t the only thing that expires. Eventually we all do. The dictionary defines “expire” as: to die out, to come to an end. When we use the word in reference to a human being, we mean they’ve died. A life has ended.
But God doesn’t see it that way and doesn’t want us to, either. Death is simply a life-shift to a new dimension and a new way of living. This is the reason Christians don’t fear dying. They believe earthly death is merely the route that moves them from one neighborhood to another, and it’s an upward move to be sure. In that sense, the concept of a human expiration date just doesn’t fit.
When Mary first received a diagnosis of pancreatic cancer she said, “I think I just got my ticket out.” In other words, she (and all of us) thought this was the beginning of the end of her time on earth.
She made her ticket-comment without fear or sarcasm but with a sincere belief in God’s truth about moving from the here-and-now to the hereafter. Though she didn’t know “how long she had,” she figured her moving date was about to come into sharp focus.
But today, after many tests and a long meeting with multiple doctors, she was told her “ticket out” will be dated far in the future. The experts are optimistic that a surgical procedure called the Whipple can remove Mary’s existing cancer (all in one place) and give her an indefinite earthly-life expectancy. Although the operation is both complicated and temporarily debilitating, they linked the word “cure” with a successful surgical outcome.
So, does Mary still have a “moving date” on God’s relocation plan? Of course. All of us do. But her ticket out, once thought to be close, has been moved to the vast unknown like the rest of us. And because of that fabulous news today, we are all singing, “Hallelujah!”
(BTW, the night I served those expired cheesy potatoes? I didn’t eat any, just in case we needed a designated driver to the ER.)
“If we live, we live to the Lord, and if we die, we die to the Lord. So then, whether we live or whether we die, we are the Lord’s.” (Romans 14:8)
Mary’s prayer requests:
- Clarity for the doctors as she seeks a second opinion
- Wisdom to make decisions over the next few days
- Praise to God for today’s good news!