Sidenote: Oh, Just To See His Face

I’m sitting here, blinking the tears away, watching this video. I’ve never had a Loved One go off to war. I’ve never experienced the stress, the anticipation, the constant discomfort that comes along with that uncertainty. I don’t know what it is to suddenly see someone that you feared you may never see again. And yet, in some way, I feel what they are feeling. I hurt as they are hurting. I am filled with joy just like them. The tears are welcome—because they are tears of assurance; they are tears of release. And the little boy. He runs to his Daddy, who wraps him in his arms and says, “I’ve missed you so much.” The little boy replies, “I missed you too, Daddy. Daddy, I love you.” “I love you too, Son.” I don’t know what that’s like. But I cry. I cry because on some level, I do know.

I’ve been away from my Father’s arms for so long. I’ve never seen his face. I’ve never been wrapped in his embrace. Sure, I know him on some level—and it’s a personal one for sure, but there are so many layers and dimensions that I cannot understand. So I live anxiously. I live with longing. I live with discomfort. I just want to see his face. I just want to run to him and be wrapped in his arms and to hear him say, “Son, I love you.” I want to weep tears of joy at our reunion.

I cannot wait for that day—when my Father, the Creator of time and space, welcomes me to spend eternity with him. It’s those little moments that bring me face-to-face with that longing. Little moments, like a mother hugging her soldier son; like a daughter seeing her father after years away. It’s those little moments that fill me with hope. Hope that someday, someday I will see his face.