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| Artwork by Thomas Kinkade (no copyright infringement intended) |
Start.
Home.
They say home is where the heart is, sometimes, home is where you hang your hat. I haven’t felt “home” for a very long time. When I visit my parents I sleep in my old room, but now only a quarter of it belongs to me. The rest of it is a sewing room. Sometimes I just want my own things about me. My bed, my furniture, my dishes. Anything.
But then, I’ve been learning that home is where God places me. Somehow he blesses me with an easy feeling of going into the refriderator without caring, a cozy nook to read and pray. The perfect color on the walls.
I think home is where you find people that love you, and where you find peace. I love that Michael Buble song “I want to go home, how I miss you, you now.” Sometimes when I hear that song, my heart cries out to the Lord. I know that my real home is in heaven, and my heart is truly there. On earth, home is where I hang my hat. In heaven, home is where my heart is.
Stop.
