Over the River

The older I become, the more grateful I am for the happy childhood that our parents provided. My earliest recollections of Thanksgiving meant one thing: Making a midnight trek to the Northwest to spend Thanksgiving with one grandmother and clan, and to bring the other grandmother home to live with us for the next four months.

Dad would meticulously pack the car (fishing gear first!) and Mom would bundle my brother and I in footed pajamas. We traveled through the night. Kyle and I usually woke up while we were going over the Siskiyou Pass. More often than not it was snowing by then, so Mom would start singing: “Over the river and through the woods to Grandmother’s house we go! The horse knows the way to carry the sleigh through the white and drifted snow…”

The last river that we crossed was the Columbia, which separates Oregon and Washington. Crossing that bridge into Vancouver caused tremendous excitement: In a few minutes we would see the face of our grandmother and run into her arms!

So it is in the last chapter of the last book of the Bible, Revelation 22, where we read about the greatest river of all—the River of Life. This river flows from the throne of God and of the Lamb through the middle of the Heavenly City, bringing fruitfulness and healing. One blessed day we shall cross over that river and see the face of God Himself and run into His arms!

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