Pondering Heaven

Sometimes I ponder (nachdenke) about Heaven. And, by extension, I acknowledge the fact that there is a Hell, but I spend less time pondering on that, because by the grace of the Good Lord I am not going there.

A [Christianly] friend once told me that she read a book about how a man went to Heaven and was stounded by what he saw: everyone was in a youthful body ( 1 Cor 15:52-54), and each man did whatever he did on earth, but was a billion times better at it. And I believe it.

I naturally wonder what I would do in heaven. I used to fear that there would be a lot of churchly singing and harp playing and maybe we'd eat some goldfish, like at VBS, which as you might imagine sounds really boring. I bought that Randy Alcorn book about heaven four years ago...and maybe after four more years I'll actually get around to reading it.

But, anymore, I don't think Heaven will be all that boring. I bet it's beautiful, and I bet I could travel all round Heaven and meet all sorts of people with different stories but still with one Truth.

I love hiking and canoeing on a lake and rafting down rivers and being in the desert and seeing a cactus and going to Alaska and standing by a glacier and swimming in the ocean and not getting stung by jellyfish. And I think I love these things because they are so organic and simple, and it makes me think of God. And about the raw vision He had for our brand new earth. What a Visionary, He is.

I hope that Heaven is like that. With raw, organic creation, unblemished and unbroken. And I will climb mountains and swim in streams and jog in fields, worshiping with my God and brothers and sisters, free from strife and angst and fear of not getting that promotion or gaining 43 more pounds.

I ponder Heaven a little more intensely when I feel like I'm going to die, truth be told. This past Thursday I had a really rocky flight. The whole plane was silent as we rolled up and down the sky, and being both morbid and a pessimist, I broached the idea of death...in the way only a twenty-something-year-old in good health who knows deep down that This plane will probably not actually crash could.

I wondered What if I actually die right now. And in my naive young way, I replied, I don't actually have anything to lose. Death has lost its sting.

Meeting God is going to be beautiful. Either way it's a win, right? I live a little longer or I go hike mountains and forge rivers with Jesus. Maybe climb a tree. WHO KNOWS.

I hoped my family wouldn't be sad for too long. I hoped they would think about how happy I was in Heaven, not listening to harp music, and I hoped they realize they would be joining me in their own time. We'd meet inside the pearly gates and I'd give them the grand tour and show them all the amazing things, only I'd probably have eaten all the good food already because I am a Baptist after all.

And I imagined walking through those gates and seeing my Grandpa for the first time in years, only healthy, before the cancer, and younger and more handsome than I'd ever remembered. And he'd smile his cocky grin and say, "Hey, Britt." And I'd probably rattle on for a while and tell him how I'd sometimes thought of him, like at graduation or during exams, because I knew he'd be thrilled I became an engineer. It brings tears to my eyes to think I'll see my Grandpa again, and we will be at peace together.

As the plane continued to toss about, I thought about one member of my family. The one with a hardened heart, who fights and rejects God and faith and wants nothing to do with our soft Christianity. And it pressed heavily on my heart to know that, if I or he died today, not only would I not see him in Heaven, but he'd be somewhere terrible, in unending agony. I didn't know what to do other than pray. I hope the Lord saves this burdened soul of his. I pray the Lord shows me how to help.

I'm guess you figured out that my plane did not, in fact, crash. I loosened my grip on the seat and read and did some more pondering. While it would be naive to pretend that plane ride was a true brush with death and that I was so so faithful and godly that I barely even got scared, I have no doubt that when death does come, I will only have greater things waiting.

Death has no sting.

-bRob

I Wanted a Relaxing Getaway, God Wants Me to be a Better Driver

This weekend I decided to wing a trip to the mountains with my sister for some camping and tubing on the river.

So Saturday morning Tweedledee and Tweedledum went off to the mountains. And once we hit mountain a batrillion hours later, we got super lost. We ended up driving through this little tubing company, and all the employees were lined up on the side of the road waving and smiling giant big smiles like they were begging me to be part of their cult or something. And this was all very confusing for me, so I kind of slowed and rolled down my window and then they stopped smiling and gave me strange looks.

We drove onward and wound up at the wrong campground because there are apparently two campgrounds with the exact same name [what kind of sense does that make??]. But the new campground had better rates anyways, so we opted to stay there.

Our cozy tent. And by cozy I mean we spent the night spooning.

Once we set up our tent [in five minutes flat, may I add...], we went and got our tubes.
In theory, tubing is a calming activity during which one can experience nature and enjoy the scenery without actually exerting any effort. Except we forgot that we weren't tubing on a lazy river, but rather in class a bajillion rapids. Little sis actually hurt her shoulder flipping over into a rock. These rapids were LEGIT.

don't ever ever ever eat mac & cheese from a can. 

Our post-whitewater dinner...cold and from a can. Because I was too lazy to bring the camp stove. I also didn't plan enough to remember dishes.

Homegirl spent 87% of her time texting

On our way back home, I decided we hadn't gotten our adventure completely on, so I stopped at another national park for a hike. Only we got super lost [again] for three hours. My poor little CR-V was ill-equipped for the mountainous terrain.

pulling over because other cars apparently like to go faster than 22 miles per hour on windy roads

We went on a five-minute hike before we got bored.

If you can't wear a fanny pack camping, when can you wear a fanny pack?

a thing i saw on my hike

sis says hi

bRob + nature = zen

But then things got all twisted and scary. And I had to be an adult. I've never been "the" adult in a situation. It's terrifying, when you're the one who's supposed to know what to do.

The GPS took us up this winding road...and it kept winding and getting narrower and narrower until we were on a 2/3 lane gravel road with steep curves going higher and higher up the mountain. It was impossible to see around the crazy switchbacks and watch for oncoming traffic. So there I was, in my little cherry-red car, bebopping along, trying to honk my way around these curves while climbing a perilous mountain and trying not to glance over the side of the cliff on my side. It is, to date, the scariest driving situation I've ever been in.

on the left is a cliff. do not let the greenery fool you.

And I forgot that I was the one who was supposed to know what to do, so in between hyperventilating and muttering prayers, I frantically asked my sister what to do. When she didn't know, I just prayed and prayed.

There was nowhere to turn around, so we kept going up and up. Praise the LORD we made it out.

Evenutally we found civilization and ate a post-almost-death-experience/victory meal.

On the last leg of our voyage, it started pouring rain...well, monsooning, really. All I could see was a curtain of gray in front of me. And InterWebs, I am entirely useless when I've hit panic mode.

My sister, being the mega-chill girl that she is, reminded me to turn on my flashers and pull over, where I tried not to freak out about the fact that we couldn't see anything outside of the sheet of rain. And also the car that hydroplaned one hundred feet behind us.

And I prayed some more.

And we made it back home safely. Where I'm sitting all nice and snug-like in my jammies. I regaled my family with the details of our journey. They did not seem nearly as impressed as I had hoped.

She can beat me up.
Also we look very greasy here.
It's because we were

You're a little impressed, right, InterWebs?

-camper bRob

PS - I took all the photos with my new camera.  That's why I may have gone a little photo crazy in this post.

I was a bit surprised my camera it is so little...I always feel like the more something costs, the bigger it should be. That's why cars are so expensive, and thumbtacks are not, ja?

Toilet Brushes

I don't understand why toilet brushes don't have longer handles.

   
          Or aren't ergonomic.

                     Or  are so splashy.    .

moving on.

"Colorado bRob" - what my Dad dubbed my post-Colorado can-do-anything persona

Once upon a time, I worked in Colorado. I learned a lot that summer - about people and how to deal with them, 

how to backpack 

 how to hide in the best hiding places  where little children can't find you

                   

           
                how to negotiate with seven-year-olds

how to sweet-talk little girls into not crying

 how to properly climb up a mini-glacier

how to repel & belay 

how to get the leisurely [slow] group, including one ornery 10-year-old cuss, up a mountain

and how to be hardcore.

Having been completely engrossed in the world of academia for the past three years since, I forgot that I can do things besides accidentally get papercuts while opening textbooks and drink insane amounts of coffee.

But when I had to move my  bookshelf down three flights of stairs last week in the sweltering heat with only the help of my little grandma, I was reminded that I can still be hardcore.
[that never-ending, multi-claused sentence looks German]

I carted heavy rafts and obnoxious children around for a summer - 

I can do difficult, taxing things now, too.

God makes us to be these dynamic, multi-faceted and capable creatures, 

but sometimes I put myself in a weak and nerdy academic box.


Moral of this soliloquy: 

bRob = 1, bookshelf = owned.

- Colorado bRob