Home. It isn't the house where Tim fell through the attic ceiling (neither one of them) or the backyard where Alesia got stung by a nest full of yellow jackets. It isn't on the double cul-de-sac where I apparently taught Phil to crash his bike into parked cars or where we played kickball, baseball, kick-the-can, freeze tag, "hiding-go-seek," red rover, or big bad wolf; and it's not in the driveway where we waited until night fell to throw objects at bats daring them to swoop down at our heads. It isn't in the neighborhood where we explored the secrets of the enchanted woods and braved to float on the roaring, mighty creek after a seasonal flood. It isn't in the house where Matthew rolled through the halls on his roller blades like a race car at the Texas Motor Speedway. And honestly, "home" isn't always in one of the three houses where I currently have my own room and way too many clothes in my closets either.
This morning, as I shared my thoughts with Mom, she asked me, "Then where is 'home'?"
I scrambled for my definition of "home," and stuttered and stammered out my half-cocked ideas, which included something about a place you feel loved, accepted, and appreciated just as you are, a place where you can wear your comfortable, stretchiest pants and forget about how ugly you look when you cry, where you are free to share your thoughts and your dreams without apprehension, knowing that you won't be judged or criticized.
In reality, I've found "home" in all of those places at different stages of my life. And I've also found "home" relaxing in my best friend's living room, sitting across the desk from a boss or coworker, standing in the front of a classroom, walking into the sanctuary of a church building, driving down I-45 with my kindred spirited friend, and sprawled out on a trampoline on a warm, starry night... I've even found "home" in the smile of a stranger.
I think "home" is something that we carry with us; it is a part of who we are as the body of Christ, or at least who we should be. "Home" is the hope of what is to come; it's peace in the midst of chaos, joy in the face of tragedy, and love when we are totally and completely unlovable.
"Home" isn't contained in the walls of the building where our family resides, but it is within the hearts of God's people. It transcends the natural and embodies the supernatural...
For the wonderful temporary places I've called "home," for the experiences of "home" that I've found along my journey, for the "home" I've discovered in the hearts of old friends and new friends too, and most importantly for the "Home" that He has gone to prepare for me, I am and will be eternally grateful.
This morning, as I shared my thoughts with Mom, she asked me, "Then where is 'home'?"
I scrambled for my definition of "home," and stuttered and stammered out my half-cocked ideas, which included something about a place you feel loved, accepted, and appreciated just as you are, a place where you can wear your comfortable, stretchiest pants and forget about how ugly you look when you cry, where you are free to share your thoughts and your dreams without apprehension, knowing that you won't be judged or criticized.
In reality, I've found "home" in all of those places at different stages of my life. And I've also found "home" relaxing in my best friend's living room, sitting across the desk from a boss or coworker, standing in the front of a classroom, walking into the sanctuary of a church building, driving down I-45 with my kindred spirited friend, and sprawled out on a trampoline on a warm, starry night... I've even found "home" in the smile of a stranger.
I think "home" is something that we carry with us; it is a part of who we are as the body of Christ, or at least who we should be. "Home" is the hope of what is to come; it's peace in the midst of chaos, joy in the face of tragedy, and love when we are totally and completely unlovable.
"Home" isn't contained in the walls of the building where our family resides, but it is within the hearts of God's people. It transcends the natural and embodies the supernatural...
For the wonderful temporary places I've called "home," for the experiences of "home" that I've found along my journey, for the "home" I've discovered in the hearts of old friends and new friends too, and most importantly for the "Home" that He has gone to prepare for me, I am and will be eternally grateful.
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