Just a few years ago, health was not an issue.  There were few doctor’s visits, long walks on the beach, morning tennis matches and drives around Mazatlán.  No longer. Some of us have sold our Mexican condominiums and moved back to the states, and some still spend a few weeks there each year.  All of us, however, are slowing down.

Last week, nine of us met in Steamboat Springs, Colorado, for a reunion.  Twenty-one originally committed to come, but most dropped out as “things” prevented them from joining the group: grandbabies being born; the failing health of a spouse; home repair issues.  For those of us who made the trip, we knew that it might be our last.

Bruce and Sharon drove from Oregon.  Bruce, a former basketball player and (now) coach, was relying on half of his lung capacity after being diagnosed with lung cancer.  Geoff and Sherrie came from Colorado Springs, Geoff in the middle of several doctor’s appointments with no answer as to why his legs were ceasing to function.  And then there were Howard and Joyce. Oh, my!

Howard turns 90 next month, and Joyce is 88.  When they told us that they were flying into Denver and renting a car to drive the three hours into the mountains, we all had our concerns.  When Joyce texted that they were on the edge of Steamboat, we were relieved.  They were about a mile away on Lincoln Avenue, the street where our rented condominium was located.  They couldn’t find us, even though Shelley and I were standing on the corner, waiting for them to spot us.

Every time Joyce told me where they were, they had passed us.  “I see you,” exclaimed Joyce.  “Shelley has on a white hat.”  No, Shelley didn’t.  After circling our block twice, Howard zoomed right past our intersection.  Joyce spotted us (the real “us,” not the lady in the hat).  We watched Howard make a U-turn in the middle of four lanes of traffic, zip into the handicap parking spot where we were standing, and get out of the car, without putting the car into park or turning it off.  This was going to be an adventure!

I reminded everyone to drink tons of water because of the altitude.  Joyce said that she didn’t like water.  I told her that it didn’t matter.  Altitude sickness was very real and no fun.  On our first day of girl-shopping, Joyce bent over to adjust her shoe and face-planted into a pile of clothes.  From that time on, she drank water.

Even though we began making plans for our next reunion, good-byes were hard.  We had been blessed with a sweet connection-time that might not happen again.  And here’s the saddest part: six of our friends are not Christians.  They are wonderful people, but they have no desire to know Jesus.  When I tell them that I will pray for them, they nod or say “thank you,” but our conversation ends there.  I don’t get it.

The ultimate reunion lies ahead for all of us who believe that Jesus lived and died for our sins. 1 Thessalonians 4:17-18 (MSG) should get us all excited about what lies ahead. “There will be one huge family reunion with the Master. So reassure one another with these words.”  How is God so easily dismissed?   Even though this Steamboat group understands how precious our time together was (and can’t wait for our next get together), even though they accept Dave and my faith, they reject the reunion that happens after we die…this heavenly banquet where the entire family of God gathers to celebrate the end of Death.  Aging.  Mourning.  Sickness.  Pain.  A broken relationship. Even altitude sickness.

It will be an adventure we dare not miss.