Small is the Gate and Narrow the Road by Patty LaRoche

Don’t you love those encounters when a military person returns from duty and is reunited with one of his loved ones? It is a common sight on YouTube channels. I tear up when I see an adolescent child run across his school cafeteria, sobbing into the arms of his/her returning parent, with no concern at all for how that looks to his classmates.

More families are now setting up those special, surprise reunions and posting them online.  I tear up, seeing them. A few months ago, Dave and I flew into MCI and noticed a uniformed soldier standing alone as we exited the plane.  I thanked him for his service, and he nodded. Dave and I walked down the corridor where we ran into him again. He appeared confused.  I asked if he needed help.  He did.  “Where is baggage claim?” he asked.

After pointing to the down escalator, I watched him walk towards it, Dave and I following.  At the bottom of the stairs, we noticed a family holding balloons with a “Welcome Home” sign.  A toddler escaped from his family and bolted to the soldier who knelt on the ground to grab his young son.  The little boy hid his face in his daddy’s neck and sobbed.  People all around stopped and applauded.  Few did not brush away tears at the sight unfolding before us.

I picture that hug as one not unlike the ones we will have when we take our last breath on earth and are standing alongside those who have gone before us into Heaven.  What will that be like to see the ones who gave us so many memorable moments before they passed?  I think of my Uncle Kermit and Aunt Gladys who taught my brothers and me how to pump kitchen water and wait in line for the outhouse to become available, who let me hog rides on their mean Shetland pony, knowing it would run me under the tree limb as I tried to take control of its path.

My Grandma and Grandpa, I hope, will be there.  They were the ones who sacrificed much after my father died, helping Mom raise three little terrors of which Mom always said I was the worst.  They let me sleep over at their house in Rich Hill, Missouri, and allowed my great uncle to take me to church and drive the stick shift home, even though I was just 13.  The memories are endless.

I will see my dad who died when I was eight months old.  What will that be like? Will I recognize him from his pictures my mom kept in her photo book?  I will get to hold our babies who died before they had a chance to live.  Will they still be babies?

We can speculate all we want, but only God knows who will be there, who has truly lived in obedience to His word, seeking holiness while serving others.  He sees their hearts and identifies their motives.  Matthew 7:14 reminds us that this is no easy journey: But small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it.                  

Luke 13:24 makes me cringe. Make every effort to enter through the narrow door. For many, I tell you, will try to enter and will not be able. Thank God (literally), Jesus gave us directions: I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through Me. (John 14:6) Get that?  Allah and Muhammed will not be able to usher us into Heaven; neither will our good works nor our good intentions. That narrow road is Jesus.  We should make no mistake about it.