I’m sitting in Gatwick airport in that limbo just before we’re supposed to board our plane – that space when you’re simultaneously on holiday and not on holiday. It’s Schrodinger’s Holiday. As I sit there, I’m reading Jesus’ words in John 12:24-28.
“The man who loves his life will lose it, while the man who hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life.”
As I read those words I am overwhelmed with a sense of longing for the next world. It feels like homesickness.
I look up, and I see a dad walking along, suitcase in tow, with his young daughter following close behind. She’s dressed in the kind of clothes that only a child can get away with wearing, including some outrageous hat with giant eyes on it. I think it’s supposed to be a Disney character or something.
I’m in a vulnerable state. I think about my own daughters, and realise that while they are still in the Disney age bracket, it won’t last forever. They will soon be grown-up and no longer able to get away with dressing like a cartoon animal. They will soon be grown-up and no longer trotting loyally after dad. This realisation makes me sad.
Strange place, Gatwick. I’m feeling homesick for a place I’ve never seen, and a sense of loss over something that I still have.
I blame the early start.
