Going Home

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Going Home

I am 40-yrs old.  I’ve been married 13-yrs to my feisty best friend and we have children, a dog and a cat.  We live in a beautiful home in Lubbock, TX.  It’s beautiful because it’s most often filled with love and laughter.  It’s where our family finds provision and security.  It’s where we intentionally create a safe place that is nothing like the often harsh outside world.  I love our home, but really, the structure itself makes no difference (although I love it too; it’s perfect for us), it’s the life in it that I love.

A week ago, we loaded up the car and drove to my Mom and Dad’s house in the DFW area (aka Meemie & Papi’s house).  What is it about “going home” that causes a small ember in our hearts to glow a little brighter? I suppose no matter the age, we long for the comfort of our own mother and father.  At least for me, I was fortunate enough to be raised in a home where both parents loved us and provided for us.  We lived a modest life, but dad worked hard and mom sacrificed so much personally to care for our home and family.  Things were not always perfect; plenty of hardships along the way.  But I never feared provision nor did I doubt their love for my brother and me.  Their world did not revolve around us kids, but they never lived their lives without us in mind. It was the four of us, and no matter the structure of the house (and there were many because we moved around quite a bit), there was love, laughter, provision and security.

Of course, my brother and I have since left our parents’ home to cleave to our own spouses and create our own homes.  But there’s just something special about “going home” to mom and dad’s house that ignites a childish fire inside of me.  It’s a sense of joy and peace and comfort.  It’s a place where I am unconditionally received by people that know everything about me and love me anyway.  And now we watch our own children run around and play under the security of us as parents but also under the cover of their grandparents.  Even our pets run in packs and play (well, except for my nervous Chihuahua; he shakes and barks).  “Going home” is a good thing and I cherish every precious moment of it.

Not every child is as fortunate as I was to have two loving and selfless parents and adequate provision throughout childhood.  Not every adult is as fortunate as I to have both parents living to play with their grandchildren.  But we all have a Father in heaven that loves us unconditionally, receives us no matter our past, provides for us more than adequately and is waiting for us one day to “go home”.  Yes, there is a small ember in my heart that shines through the giving of love, prayer, praise, worship, sometimes tears and just living life joyfully under the cover of our Father.  And if “going home” to Meemie & Papi’s house can ignite such a pure child-like fire within my heart, I can’t imagine the light that will ignite the day my Father in heaven calls me to go home.

 

 

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