the beauty of Home...

Thursday, July 19, 2012

they have been on my mind, these last few weeks...more so these last few days.

unsure why, the memory of them sweep over me as i bend down and pick up, straighten and sweep, vacuum and put away.

i've been going back and visiting, walking through rooms no longer ours and allowed the emotion of each space to fill my memory with bittersweet emotion and i wonder,

really wonder,

where is home?

in almost-eleven years of marriage, there have been 8 different addresses.

i remember, in the months before i became his missus that i said,

i don't want to stay in any one place for long. let's move every 2 years. let's be adventurous and see as much as we can...

and for the first little bit? it's what we did, kept moving, kept seeing, kept discovering together...

and then i thought i was home.

has this space heard enough of that little yellow house? the one with the saw dust insulation all settled near the foundation; the cracks in the windows that let in the -40 winds straight from the north...has my heart heard enough?

i find myself lost there and longing for there, reaching for something no longer mine.

and i grieve.


and i pick up.


and sit down in front of the window that looks towards the hills, the ones that lift my eyes up and remind me where my Help comes from.

because He is there...



i remember saying, when we first moved here, that home isn't the space that we put our feet on, it's the hearts that surround me, no matter where we are.

so we move, once again, this time into a home that bears our name, the one that as we first pulled up to, i looked at and laughed and said,

well, that's easy. we can cross this one off the list before we ever go inside.

but then we go inside and all i want to do is hug these walls and make it our own, cozy down in front of the woodstove with a good book and a blanket and a hot cup of coffee.  i want to bake bread here and grow friendships here and encourage dreams here and i want to live.

i want to live here and make it home.

i want to live again.

i buy flowers and plant them and watch them wither and die in the heat of this valley, despite the water and the hope i keep pouring over them, except for that dahlia right there in the corner.  she grows strong.

and i place markers of His Presence, right there on our home.  the one that shelters the ones i love most and i plunk it right there by the plant that smells of jasmine, stake a claim, an anchor of belief in Him that everything beautiful, begins with God.

and i read it, in the dark and with tears streaming down, of bonhoeffer, the man who found deep joy in the darkest of prisons,

bonhoeffer...{was} all humility and sweetness, he always seemed to diffuse an atmosphere
of happiness, of joy in every smallest event in life, and of deep gratitude for the mere
fact that he was alive...he was one of the very few men that i have ever met
to whom his God was real and ever close to him.
~p. best

and the truth of it is, the very base truth is found in those words nailed right there near that red door of mine that welcomes you in,

in His presence is fullness of joy,

and His presence is everywhere.

no matter how long these walls are our own, it will always be temporary...

home is waiting for me,

being prepared for me...

home is where Jesus is and all this waiting, all this life is just the road that leads me there.

but until then, until that moment when i finally see His Face,

i will mark us as His Own here, i'll surround us with the truth that we are His,

and we will find joy in these moments because every one of them, no matter how held-together or broken,

each one can find beauty in Him..

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