Last Sunday at church my pastor, aka Mr. Gorgeous, told the story of the Pilgrims. He told about the horrible famine and lack of resources that they experienced. In fact, at one time the situation became so critical that food was strictly rationed. For a brief period of time, every person in the colony was restricted to five kernels of corn per day. FIVE KERNELS… Can you imagine living on five kernels of corn a day? I cannot.

As things continued with the terrible drought, the Pilgrims gathered for prayer. They prayed and prayed and begged God for rain. He answered and gave them two weeks of consistent, gentle rain. The crops were revived and the harvest was plentiful. They gathered for a feast to thank God for His bountiful provision. As they sat to eat their meal, someone placed five kernels of corn at each place setting to remind them of how very far God had brought them.

Before John preached, he gave each of us a small plastic container holding five small kernels of corn to remind us of the journey of our relationship with God.

Five kernels.

I have to confess that I often look at the blessings and the things that He has given me and I forget how far He has brought me. I forget the journey.

There are times that I look at my life and I think about the things that we haven’t done or haven’t done well enough. You know, we should have more in savings than we do, our retirement fund should be larger, we should be able to do more to help those around us. And even though all of those things may be true, I need to see the journey — I need to thank God and acknowledge Him for how very far He has brought us. I need to be thankful for the travel from point A to point B.

What did we learn from the journey? We learned that choices today have consequences tomorrow. We learned that it really is best to pay up front — whether it be financially or with work and effort. We learned that following God’s plan takes us to places and provides us with blessings we could never imagine — even if the journey isn’t always the most pleasant. We’ve learned that the journey is something to be grateful for.

I’m thankful for being the youngest of four: for two precious older sisters — as different as night and day — and an amazing big brother with whom I fought and who I miss terribly. I’m thankful for five parents — Mom, Dad, Momma (2nd mom), Mom-in-Law, and Father-in-Law — and numerous adopted parents who thought I was worth loving and investing in. I’m grateful for the love of a Godly man who welcomed me into his life and heart and made me his wife. I’m thankful for three sons, a daughter in heaven, and a daughter-in-love who are all amazing, gifted people. I’m grateful for nieces, nephews, aunts, uncles, and in-laws (and a few out-laws — smile). I’m grateful for work: store clerk. janitor, legal secretary, corporate writer, recreation director, day care worker, pastor, teacher, and now an insurance claims processor. I’m grateful for friends and former students and neighbors and houses and beds and clothes and shoes and dishwashers. And I’m blessed by so much more than just these things.

Most of all, I’m blessed by the journey to reach, to achieve, and to gain. Journeys teach us and help us to become who God has called us to be.

Five kernels in a small plastic jar — I have one in the living room, one in our office, one on my nightstand, and one on my desk at work.

You may wonder why they seem to be everywhere.

It’s because I never want to forget how far God has brought me . . . and I want to remember that I still have miles to go.

It was bound to happen. After all, we now live nearly 1000 miles from the place that was home for 12 1/2 years. I just didn’t expect it to happen so soon — and I didn’t expect it to make me so sad.

The distance has been magnified by circumstances. We’ve been in Wisconsin for nearly two months. In the past ten days, my dad (we use to live less than an hour away from him) had surgery, a dear friend’s son was in the hospital (I worked with his Mom), and our son became ill (we were 15 miles away). I’ve felt the distance — the literal distance — between us in profound ways. On the other hand, since we’ve been here, my father-in-law was hospitalized and our nephew-in-law became ill and is hospitalized. Granted, my second dad and our nephew are five hours away — but it isn’t 18 hours.

As a teenager I was told to bloom where I was planted. I’ve always tried to do just that. But really, what does that mean? Does it mean settling in and becoming a part of a community? Could it be working hard at the job you have and doing it to the best of your ability? Is it simply learning, as Paul said, “to be content in whatever situation wherein I find myself?”

Wherever we’ve lived we have “settled in” and made a life for ourselves, for our children, and we’ve ministered. We’ve interacted with communities. We’ve found jobs and worked hard to do them well; we’ve made friends and been involved in their lives. We’ve tried to show others who Jesus is. As we all do, we’ve loved people and we’ve been blessed to be loved by amazing, wonderful people.

When you move away from those special folks, it’s hard. Honestly, I make friends fairly easily. But it is still hard to be away from old friends, to be away from family members. And it is especially hard to be away from them when they are hurting.

Distance is difficult. It isn’t impossible to overcome, but it’s hard. In the world in which we live we are able to remain connected in so many more ways than ever before. I don’t “tweet” (I’m too verbose), but I do Facebook. I use Instagram, email, text, and of course I use the phone. Oh yeah, did I say that I blog? For the past seven weeks, we’ve been trying to communicate and stay in touch, but we didn’t have internet — we’re back on line and it’s just in time. The distance seems smaller for the simple reason that I can pick up my computer and check Facebook and email everyday once again.

I understand the concerns that people have about the overuse of technology — I have many of those same concerns. However, today, living 1000 miles away from Dad, Nate, and Carson, I’m thankful to be able to know what is going on in their lives.

Distance means we have to work harder to stay involved in each others lives. It means that the relationships are different — but they aren’t gone; they’re not lost.

As a fourth grade Girl Scout I sang a song that said, “Make new friends, but keep the old, one is silver and the other’s gold.” That’s where we are. We are living a great distance from many people we love and care for. Yet, there are amazing  “new” people that we’ve already learned to love and care for. They are silver; they are gold. They are treasures in our lives — distance or not, we treasure the gifts of the people that God has brought into our lives.

In fact, in spite of the distance — or perhaps because of it, I can join the Apostle Paul in saying these words to my friends and family who are everywhere from Alaska to Vietnam and all points in between:  “I thank my God every time I remember you. ⁴ In all my prayers for all of you, I always pray with joy ⁵ because of your partnership in the gospel from the first day until now,⁶ being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus. ⁷ It is right for me to feel this way about all of you, since I have you in my heart.” (Philippians 1:3-7a, NIV)