HOme

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Home is my place. 
 
Right now, there’s a hen under my feet. The boys are napping, and I have this fleeting moment to worship and reflect.  Quiet summer days can do that to a person.

In a lifetime, not everyone will have a place to feel safe and loved.
And sometimes, it’s built over time. God can take away the unnecessary, the hurt, the fear, the pride, the self-service. He can empty us of ourselves, and He can make Himself known in a place where all seems lost.
 
Where apathy once lived, empathy can begin to abound.
Empathy can learn to have compassion.
Compassion serves.
The servant and the served love.
 
It’s God’s way, not our human inclination.
 
He heals. He mends, and we begin to get a taste of the safest place of all, Heaven. It’s where the perfect relationship between Christ and His bride will exist.
 
We won’t have to try to bottle up the perfect days, or recall days gone by.

 We will be home.  We will be safe.
 
Self will have no place in that place.  He will make everything the way it was intended to be in the beginning, before the world took a dark turn. Every day will be like a quiet summer day, basking in His presence.
 
No tears.
No fear.
No goodbyes.
No sickness.
 
Not everyone, in this lifetime, will have a place to call home.
A place to rest, a distant dream,
But it’s okay.
It’s not the end.

​There’s a place.
It’s the place that I dream of when I think about home.