Home again, home again

Home again, Home again

It's quarter to 9:00 p.m. on Saturday night. I got home after a two week absence Friday night and will leave again tomorrow morning. I find myself thinking a lot about "home" and what exactly "home" means to me.

Home is the place where people (and doggies) are happy to see you, no matter how long you've been away. A day, a week (or two), a couple of hours. When you arrive home safely the ones who have been waiting for you heave a sigh of relief. Doggies (and hubbies) shower you with kisses, and want to be near you. Absence really does make the heart grow fonder.

Home is where you can kick off your shoes, spend most of the day in your jammies, and not bother to even comb your hair, and nobody cares, because you're home.

Home is where you can find your way to the bathroom without turning on the light.

Home is the place you feel safest, and trust the ones you share your home with. (Or should be, anyway)

Home is the place you can pray out loud, without feeling self-conscious.

Home is where TIVO has taped all your favorite shows.

Home is where your pictures are on the walls, your clothes are in the drawers, and the sheets smell like your fabric softener.

Home is the place you go when the world seems a cold and heartless place.

Home is milk and cookies and "how was your day?"

Home is the place that is waiting for you to arrive, so that it will really be "home."

Home is the place where you can cook a meal and know where all your spices are.

If home is where the heart is, then how many homes can one person have?

All I know is that no matter how long I'm away, my heart knows the difference between "home" and "not home." No matter how comfortable and cozy my hotel room is, it's not home.

I'm glad to be home for these few days. They are precious days, and even though I spend them doing the most mundane of things - laundry, sorting the mail, paying the bills, cooking dinner - these days are precious because I'm home, with my husband and my doggies and my friends.

Imagine then, that if we feel this way about our earthly home, and how much we may long for the comforts we find there, how much more should we long for our Heavenly Home? I don't know if there are streets of gold and angels resting on clouds playing harps. I have no idea what Heaven will be like, but I believe that deep within each of us is the longing for the place we can call Home. I think the longing to "go Home" is hard-wired into us, and no matter how comfortable we are here, we still have that longing for something Else, something Better. There is a God-shaped hole inside of our souls that only God can fill, and our earthly homes, no matter how good they are, is only a shadow of the Home that Christ has planned for us. Christ said that He has gone to prepare a place for us, and that in His Father's house are many mansions. One of those mansions is mine.... Will you be my neighbor?