A parent had to go away on business.
Something needed to be accomplished that couldn’t be done here, the main site had to be the place. Neither was it appropriate for the rest of the family to go with them – there was a life to be carried on where they were.
The spouse was worried how they’d cope alone, shouldering all the responsibilities and work alone – but knew they would be able to talk on the phone, to mull things over together and seek advice.
But one of the children was not so easily convinced. I’ll miss you, I need you; how will I even remember what you look like, sound like, smell like?
And so the parent left something behind. A special teddy. The child knew that it was the parent’s. Battered, loved and very theirs – it even smelt of them. It was a part of them, a present reminder of the parent who was somewhere else for a time, though very much still watching out for them and loving them – and a reminder of the promise that they would be back. It reminded them that they were loved, and it made them just a little bit braver to carry on with what they had to do. It gave them strength that they didn’t know they had – and was a sign of the promise that the parent was coming back. They still felt bemused and bewildered at times, but they knew they were not abandoned. They were loved and their parent was cheering for them – if from a different place.
This is a slightly adapted true story that hopefully goes some way to getting our heads round the unexplainable of Ascension/Pentecost. Thanks to Pam Webster for permission to use her post: more like this at Pam’s Perambulations.