Anachronism explanation: I wrote this post last week. :]

It struck me on a Friday. Reading words from the first chapter of Hebrews:

You, Lord, in the beginning laid the foundation of the earth,
And the heavens are the work of Your hands.
They will perish, but You remain;
And they will all grow old like a garment;
Like a cloak You will fold them up,
And they will be changed.
But You are the same,
And Your years will not fail. {Heb. 1:10-12, emphasis added}

And it struck me on a Tuesday. With the words of Ann Voskamp as she considered her life, the world we live in, how to practice the presence of God, observing and asking:

The world I live in is loud and blurring and toilets plug and I get speeding tickets and the dog gets sick all over the back step and I forget everything and these six kids lean hard into me all day to teach and raise and lead and I fail hard and there are real souls that are at stake and how long do I really have to figure out how to live full of grace, full of joy–before these six beautiful children fly the coop and my mothering days fold up quiet? {One Thousand Gifts, p. 120}

On the Wednesday I stared down at a baby boy, dreamily drinking his milk and about to fall asleep for a belated morning nap. This day, tomorrow, and then he’ll be a year old.

Otter Trail Sunset

Everything about life as I know it will sooner or later change. That image, of the heavens and the earth folding up, it nearly startled me. Like a tablecloth covering a table, a garment covering a bare back — the cloth can fold up, be removed. The thing underneath, that is the thing which endures.

Underneath the stoplights and grocery stores and tin shacks and post offices, beneath the television stations and grandfather clocks, libraries and even the mighty Amazon River — this one thing remains. When all that we’ve ever known, life as we know it folds up like a blanket at the end of time, set aside, work accomplished, there will be what there was in the beginning. God.

In the beginning was God.

At first this understanding is hard for me. I’m not a big fan of change. Stay eleven months, baby. Stay healthy, body. Stay living, friends and family. Stay here.

But I am so glad I know the One who endures. Him who saw, foreknew, predestined, purposed and planned my very soul.

I’m so glad He is good. I’m so glad He never changes. Knowing that this isn’t all there is makes the fact that things are going to change a little easier to handle. This life is like a tablecloth, or a garment covering the real thing underneath.

We who were created by Him and for Him — Him for whom all things are and by whom all things are — have the privilege to accept the invitation He wrote and paid for, the one that will bring us to His glory.

And a little bit of peace comes to this Mama-soul, knowing when this folds up, the childhood and the onesies, the swaddling and the sippee cups, sleepless nights and pajamas dancing on the living room floor — when Time itself is neatly folded and put up in some eternal linen closet, still somehow, Glory to God, the best is yet to come.