In route to the Twin Cities just a matter of days ago, to spend a week with our oldest son, I divided the sixteen hour trek into uneven halves with a one night stay on the other side of Chicago. I'm infatuated with cities; a true city girl through and through! I actually enjoy the traffic-laden, stop-and-go drive through a downtown metropolis. The buzz of people, the store fronts and billboards, the line of restaurants, the diversity, the hustle and bustle, even the honking gives me a bit of a rush. However, I was thankful to get through the heart of Chicago that rainy afternoon after ten plus hours confined to my driver's seat. I settled into one of Marriott's temporary bedrooms for a short nightcap fully aware I'd be back on I-90 in just a matter of hours.
I awoke early and was greeted by brilliant sunshine as I dragged the trusty plastic stick to draw back the heavy shade-darkening curtain. The opening of that hotel curtain collided with the opening of some faded memories from over a decade ago that tumbled into my conscience and caught me unaware. As I drank in the view of the breath-taking Chicago morning, the skyline sparked memories of being in another city with my late brother, Ron. Memories matched with a familiar flood of emotions that unwittingly showed up in my hotel room and my heart just after dawn ...
Ron called San Francisco home for well over twenty-five years until the very day he took his last breath on earth. His third floor apartment, in the Portrero Hill neighborhood, nestled in between what was then called PacBell Stadium and the Bay Bridge. A place that felt like home to me although I've only been back to the city once since Ron's death. However, on that sunny autumn morning just a week ago, while taking in the Chicago skyline, I had a rather odd but palatable sensation of being back in the PLACE that I grew up simply calling, "the city." As if San Francisco belonged to my family or something. Smile.
I felt the all too familiar rush of hearing, smelling and feeling city life as if I were actually stepping out onto the sidewalk below Ron's apartment housed on Mariposa Street in the hill-laden streets of his neighborhood. As my eyes beheld the windy city's horizon, it was if my nostrils took in a fresh aroma of Folgers Coffee from the plant only blocks from Ron's cozy flat. I had a strange sense of my leg muscles feeling the stretch while in my mind, Ron and I made the steep trek up to the Daily Grind Coffee Shop for our morning cup. I was almost convinced that my ears overheard the familiar bell faintly ringing at the local bookstore as my memory opened the door for Ron and me to step inside to peruse a few new titles or pick a needed greeting card. The sensations played out in my memory but the sentiments were so real they felt tangible.
I felt the all too familiar rush of hearing, smelling and feeling city life as if I were actually stepping out onto the sidewalk below Ron's apartment housed on Mariposa Street in the hill-laden streets of his neighborhood. As my eyes beheld the windy city's horizon, it was if my nostrils took in a fresh aroma of Folgers Coffee from the plant only blocks from Ron's cozy flat. I had a strange sense of my leg muscles feeling the stretch while in my mind, Ron and I made the steep trek up to the Daily Grind Coffee Shop for our morning cup. I was almost convinced that my ears overheard the familiar bell faintly ringing at the local bookstore as my memory opened the door for Ron and me to step inside to peruse a few new titles or pick a needed greeting card. The sensations played out in my memory but the sentiments were so real they felt tangible.
As my minds-eye recaptured moments from life long ago, the Spirit of God made a poignant connection between this odd sensation to something of far greater value. I could see with the eyes of my heart how much these cherished memories awakened me to the reality that all too often we find ourselves feeling far from our Creator, gently grieving meaningful time lost with God. Time that somehow became a thing of our past; recent or distant. We despondently wonder if it will ever be "like it was before" with Him. As my eyes took in the view from my hotel window, my heart took in a different view and I began to wonder if this all too familiar dilemma has a solution so simple that we somehow miss it? That breath-taking view of the windy city tossed me back to life as it was in another city ... the city (smile) that my beloved late brother once called home. I had returned to a PLACE so like San Francisco that it nearly propelled my heart and head to believe I was actually there.
In a similar way, returning to the PLACE you or I used to meet with God is the beginning of recovering the relationship with Him we once enjoyed. It's really that simple. If we would but hasten back to the PLACE where we used to meet with the Lover of our Soul ... retreat to early mornings or a favored spot in nature, determine to return to church or just to that big comfy chair in the den ... the PLACE where we grew accustomed to listening to the Voice of Truth and pouring out our heart to the God who cares ... that PLACE will accompany us back to time with the Father as we once knew it because somehow, the PLACE really does make all the difference.
In a similar way, returning to the PLACE you or I used to meet with God is the beginning of recovering the relationship with Him we once enjoyed. It's really that simple. If we would but hasten back to the PLACE where we used to meet with the Lover of our Soul ... retreat to early mornings or a favored spot in nature, determine to return to church or just to that big comfy chair in the den ... the PLACE where we grew accustomed to listening to the Voice of Truth and pouring out our heart to the God who cares ... that PLACE will accompany us back to time with the Father as we once knew it because somehow, the PLACE really does make all the difference.
