Meeting Places

Marshall and I met for lunch last week.  We work in opposite directions from home, so we had to work out a plan to meet somewhere halfway between.  We did, and had a wonderful lunch.  Turns out, by just driving about 15 minutes, we could spend the next 45 minutes together.  It was so worth it.

As we sat down with our Chick-fil-A sandwich, Marshall said the prayer, a short prayer, thanking God for the food and places “in the middle” where we could meet to eat together.  It was a simple phrase, but something about it rang true.  Thank God for places in the middle.  Places where we go toward one another and meet.   It reminded me of the McDonalds in Shepardsville, KY.  As we drove home from Ohio this past Thanksgiving, I pointed it out to my adult children.   It took them a minute, but when I reminded them of the meetings there, they smiled.  When Jacque was small and we lived in Nashville, we would meet the grandparents there, eat a hamburger, and hand over a kid for a summer week with Grandma and Grandpa.  It was a place in the middle.

Places in the middle are special.  They are the places where we meet others.  The places where we meet friends and family.  The places where two angry, hurt hearts meet for forgiveness.   The places where people from opposite directions can come together.  Two ends can meet in the middle.   Unless,  one end is God and the other is me.  In that case, He came all the way to a manger in Bethlehem.  He comes all the way, knowing I could never make it even half way to Him.  All I have to do is turn around and He is there.