…or at least get me close. And then make sure I get back.

Recently my friend Manon wrote me. Her mother, Ruth, was Director of Children’s Ministries at Bel Air Presbyterian in Los Angeles, a church I attended for years and where my daughters went to preschool. Ruth was a lifelong friend, passing away not long after she and Manon attended my younger daughter’s wedding six years ago. Lately Manon came across some of her mother’s writings and has been emailing them to friends. Here, with her permission, I share her latest.

“Hey, look! History is being made! Remember sitting mesmerized in front of a rabbit-eared television watching rockets blast off and space shuttles splash down? That scene, minus the rabbit ears, was repeated today on a mission exceeding anything we could envision back in those early pioneering days. Ruth wrote of one of those early flights and prayers needed in her national newsletter.
Please include the safe and timely return of our astronauts in your much-needed prayers for our country.
Cosmonaut Cannot Come Home

The headline caught my eye and sympathy.

Sergei Krikalev blasted off from the Soviet Union for what he thought was a three-month tour of duty in space. Ten months later he was still circling his “home” and the globe. Problem: His landing field became owned by another country; the Soviet Union no longer existed, and its official space organization had disbanded. Consequently, no one was in authority to bring him home.

I am sad for this young man circling 250 miles above me. Then I thought of the times I have circled with a payload of emotional or spiritual concerns. I, too, at times feel like I cannot go “home” and rest. While the USSR space agency was out of commission, God’s lines of communication are not. God’s welcome mat is out.

How lovely is your dwelling place, O Lord Almighty. Blessed are those who dwell you in your home. (Psalm 84:1,4 )

I am grateful for all those wonderful self-help books. I am thankful for friends I can go to for counsel. They are helpful, but nothing compares with that quiet place with God where I can bring my fears and failures, where I am able to indeed be at home.

You are my hiding place; You protect me from trouble and surround me with songs of deliverance. (Psalm 32:7)

By the way, if you are wondering, as I was, whatever happened to Krikalev, the story has a happy ending. You can read about here:


Stay safe, everyone. Until next time.