These days, Lorraine and I have developed a new kind of interest in the grocery store. It’s not about the sale items or the seasonally fresh selections we sometimes can’t resist. It’s not about the people who work there, though that’s another story. No, this interest has to do with people we might see there.

It started back in April when we hadn’t seen anyone in what seemed like forever. It had just been a few weeks then. One day we saw Micah in the Jewel.

She was so excited she let out a little scream of a hello. Really, she just said hi. Lorraine answered her. Well, you knew they were excited. You could tell they were doing one of those hugging things that really wasn’t a hug at all. They didn’t even touch, social distancing and all, but they managed to express how happy they were to see each other. Even with masks on. No touch. You could just tell.

That was the beginning, but it keeps happening. So now we’re always looking for people at the store—it’s like a bonus. Besides food to feed our bodies, there’s always the chance we will see someone we used to see most every week. It's sort of a tonic for the heart to see these people.

Just yesterday we saw Di in the pasta aisle at Caputo's.

But it’s not just at the grocery stores. It’s starting to happen in other places.

Think of Lucy spotting Mr. Tumnus at the lamppost in a strange always-winter land or eating a delicious meal with Mr. and Mrs. Beaver in their lodge. It’s that kind of warm sense of wonder, for just a few sweet seconds at a time, and then we move on to whatever is next.

I look around at the people pumping gas next to me at the station. Hardware and home improvement stores also make for happy hunting when it comes to finding long-lost relatives who aren’t really lost and aren’t nearly as distant as they seem right now.

Last week Brandon waved at me across the parking lot, and I waved back as we drove away. It was a hat trick of sorts at Costco, just a week ago, where we got to see Evelyn, Becky and Roger in a single visit. They all looked great.

Sunday night I saw Bill at the baptism service. He was so happy to see me and everyone else. It was like waking from a sort of dazed dream to see, yes, all these people, still here after these months. And it was just a moment of joy, simple and kind of amazing. Like a little summer firefly at twilight, the light glowing naturally for a few seconds and moving on, then raising itself again and giving another summer green glow.

This week I got to talk to Jim and Patte. Granted, this was on Zoom, but I got to hear their voices. They’re still there with all the insights and challenging thoughts and open prayer requests and the desire to talk about poetry together.

Tuesday, I got to see Wendell, which seemed miraculous. I walked out of the church office and there he was, standing on the right side of the plexiglass by Lorraine’s reception area. We said hello, and he spoke in the life-affirming way that he always does. And I was lifted up. There’s nothing quite like shaking Wendell’s hand. And we used to do that normal, everyday greeting almost every Sunday. So just seeing him now, well, that was more than swell.

We used to see all these people and more, Sunday after Sunday. and it was just the way it was. Now, though, I think we realize what a true treasure our gathering is, or was, and will be.

I need to tell you a secret.

All these people and me and the others—we all live in the same house. We’re used to seeing each other all the time. Different rooms, one home. It’s a great house. But we aren’t exactly there right now. Not quite.

We love that house. I especially love working with other people on lifelong renovation projects or brainstorming ways to add on to the house. Or a group of us get creative and change out the color of a wall or plant spring bulbs in the fall to see the burst of color in the spring. Sometimes it’s great to just sit in that house and share a meal or pray and talk about life together.

But our big loveable house seems to have moved somewhere we can’t quite find. Like Dorothy’s house that the tornado picks up and takes on a technicolor journey, it eventually will land back where it started. This crazy movie of flying monkeys and lions, scarecrows, witches and tin men who will really turn out to be people around town, people who live in the same house with me. The ones we bump into wherever.

This house we’re longing for—not everyone has that abode.

There’s always room for more in ours. Because, after all, the house is us. Handcrafted by Christ, we are the house. What a gift of grace it is to walk this life together. To hear God’s Word and see it come to life in and through us. Even in this crazy pandemic time, though distanced and masked, we live it and share it together. Maybe not in the pew, but in the dairy aisle of the grocery store or by the light bulbs in the hardware store or pumping regular gas in the tank this week. Little moments of home along the way.

So, look for me or another one of us when you’re out on an errand today. And let's make room for more.

Even the sparrow finds a home,
    and the swallow a nest for herself,
    where she may lay her young,
at your altars, O Lord of hosts,
    my King and my God.
Blessed are those who dwell in your house,
    ever singing your praise!
Psalm 84:3-4