Friends are traveling internationally. They spoke about the process of leaving a suitcase open on the bed, while they make a string of decisions. What should they take? What could they do without? The task involves weighing the bags, to avoid fees for surpassing the limits, or tossing something in the trash at security. Lugging luggage through the airport, labeling it with your personal info so you can find it again, and  hoisting it onto the conveyor belt are all parts of the process of arriving in another city with what you need. 

 

One time I was flying across the country to perform in a concert, and while waiting by the turnstile we travelers chatted. When I went to retrieve my guitar case someone asked if I was a professional. I paused. "Professional" felt like an oversized label for my decidedly amateur enjoyment of musicianship. Then again I was being paid for this gig. 

 

"Yes, as a matter of fact. I am," I smiled.

 

I have heard stories of people approaching the precipice of their time on this planet who mumble about tickets. They are preparing for a trip, and they fuss about finding the train station, or boarding a ship. Hospice nurses who are savvy about such things recognize the signs that death is imminent. But then so is new life. 

 

When I weigh the parts of myself that I might bring with me on this journey called life, some are like rocks. Grudges, and resentment anchor me to the past. They take up precious room in my heart that could be better filled with forgiveness. Plus when I unpack my fresh self in heaven I want to identify qualities like compassion as mine, so that they can find me again.