"Close Only Counts in Horseshoes, Darts, and Hand Grenades"

         My fifth grade teacher, Mrs. McCallister used to be a fan of the saying, “Close only counts in horseshoes, darts, and hand grenades.”   At the age of ten, I had no idea what she was saying except that being near a hand grenade was not something that sounded like a good idea.  I’ve been hearing Mrs. Mac say that phrase in my head a lot over the last few weeks and I think I would reply with a resounding, “Amen, Sister!” if she were around today.  Close doesn’t count when you are a few weeks away from going to get the child you’ve hoped for and prayed for every day for the last six months.  We are so close, so very close, but not really close at all to that little boy whose world is about to be turned upside down.  In fact, we are seven thousand four hundred miles away from close.  Close doesn’t count when the little one you dream about holding is still just that, a little one existing only in your dreams.  

          Close also doesn’t count when you are trying to get what feels like your 300th official piece of paperwork sent from one government agency to another government agency and you realized that they misspelled your name.  

And not even your really strange, hard to pronounce my-parents-are-theology-nerds first name.  No, they misspelled your nice, normal easy-peasy last name.  And so you have a small breakdown and want to collapse on the floor in a puddle of  tears and “Why me, God?!”  -until your wiser than her years ten year old daughter reminds you, “This is just a small setback, Mom.  Some people wait years to get their children.  Think about those people and how lucky we are to be going to get Carter so soon.”  BOOM.  You’ve just been schooled in the most important lesson in life by your daughter.  Who is in the fourth grade.  

(Yes, that's a hamster peeking out of her pocket.)

             But, close DOES count when your heart is weary and your mind is tired from endlessly racing from one task to another and you find an inexplicable sense of peace arise from unexpected places- like washing the dishes.  Close does count when you get an email telling you that your little boy loves to be outside and is happy when he is looking at your pictures.  Close does count when you start to complain about yet another snow day keeping your kids at home until you realize that you’ve been given an amazing gift of fifteen extra days at home together, as a family of four, before it all changes for good.  

          Close counts when you are standing in the laundry room, folding the first of what will surely be thousands of loads of baby laundry, realizing how much you didn’t miss trying to match tiny baby socks, trying not to cry at the realization that you are folding size 9 month clothes for your 19 month old son, and then finally crying because this is the first tangible thing you’ve done that connects you to that tiny body on the other side of the world (and because tiny socks make you think of tiny baby feet that maybe have never been kissed).   

          Close counts in these moments because these are the moments when God has reached down and whispered into my heart, “I’m here.” 

       God, who said, “Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.  Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.” (Mt 11:28&29) 

 Wait, did he really say rest?  Twice in two sentences?  Does he know how tired I feel?  Heart and soul tired?  

The funny thing about rest is that it requires you to be still.  To stop racing and pacing.  When you are still, that is when you notice just how close that the gentle-hearted Creator God is to your own tiny little self.  
Close.  
Close in the way that really does count.