A child, watching the decorations go up and packages begin to appear, anticipates Christmas morning with a sense of excitement and wonder.

A milestone birthday elicits a similar state of mind, and it seems as if time stands still and the longed-for day will never come.

An expectant mother, especially a first-time mother, looks forward to her due date with a mixture of joy and fear, and nothing distracts her from that future thought for long.

It's not only good things, however, that draw us into a state of anticipation, of great expectation.

I remember waiting, with great dread, for Dec. 14, 1972, to come. That was the day Danny was scheduled to depart for basic training in the U.S. Navy. He would be gone for several weeks and all I could see were days and days of loneliness, one following another, with more of the same to come. The closer the day came, the harder the pit that had become my stomach became. I wasn't looking forward to that day at all.

Of course, it finally arrived, I survived it (just barely) just as I barely survived the long days of loneliness. I had promised to write every single day, and I did, but I think the Navy had a little problem with the content and conveniently lost several of my letters, or they were disinclined to pay the postage due when I frequently exceeded the weight limit on a first class letter. (Frequent readers won't be surprised to learn that I had then, as I do now, the ability to write page after page after page of material. It was probably God's own blessing that those letters were diverted - never to be seen again.)

Similarly, years later, June 14, 1994, loomed on the family calendar. The closer it got, the more knots my stomach tied. This time we would be taking Ben to the airport to board a plane straight out of our arms and into the waiting clutches of the U.S. Marine Corps.

In preparation for Ben's leave-taking, celebrations were planned and family time became very precious. No plans were made without taking the upcoming date into account. One of our rare professional family photographs was taken during the weeks leading up to that date. We made ourselves ready, or as ready as we could be, for this first little bird to spread his wings and fly out of our nest.

There was a time in the ministry of Jesus when he perforce changed his focus from the crowds around him to the close inner circle of disciples. It was time. A grim horizon, revealing the silhouette of three crosses on a lonely hill at Golgotha was drawing closer with every passing day. Early in his ministry, Jesus knew that day and hour would come, but it was still far away enough in space and time that its urgency need not yet be contemplated. But as each day rolled into the next tomorrow, that stark hillside loomed before him, the dreadful anticipation built, not only for himself, but for those who would bear witness to his suffering as well.

And so, he began to prepare them. And he was faithful, always, to tell them the whole story. "From that time on Jesus began to explain to his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem and suffer many things at the hands of the elders, chief priests and teachers of the law, and that he must be killed and on the third day be raised to life." (Matthew 16:21)

We aren't bottled milk on a shelf. There is no visible expiration date stamped on the heel of our right foot or under our bangs. Some, however, do have their suspicions. Those of significant years understand on some level that the days they have expended now outnumber the days that remain. Death row inmates have an expiration date of sorts, though it is sometimes subject to change. Those who are succumbing to terminal illnesses are cruelly forced -- not to know the day or the hour perhaps -- but to fully understand the hard truth of time growing ever shorter, an uncharted horizon drawing inexorably closer with every breath.

Just as Jesus sought to prepare his disciples for the horror of his trial, sentence and execution, he lived his life to prepare us for our own dark night of the soul, whether it comes in the springtime of our youth, in the long shadows of winter or sometime in between. Every step he took, every day of his life, brought him one step closer to that cruel cross. And though he could have turned away at any point of the journey, he fixed his eyes on the cross, knowing that it was our only hope.

Before your own dark night descends, see again that journey to the cross and all that was bought there. See what Jesus endured so that he could bring you safely through that dark night when death descends, into the resurrection he achieved and has promised for those who believe.

"Jesus said to her, 'I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me will live, even though he dies; and whoever lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?'" John 11:25, 26 (NIV)

Things you won't see in heaven:

Expiration dates.