Home

I really didn’t feel good. Besides, it was cloudy and rainy outside. – Good excuse to hide out.

But there were bills to pay. I needed to deliver checks. —Didn’t somebody say fresh air helps the common cold and cough?

Donning my sweat pants and ski cap, I was off to walk the streets of my favorite Village. I scooted down the damp gray sidewalk looking more like a vagabond boy than a grandma of three.

Of course, little Village, you didn’t disappoint. Breathing in the crisp air helped my raspy throat. Dreaming of life stories behind each passing home helped my foggy brain.

I got to thinking about homes. No matter where we live or what home looks like, it’s a container, a container of love.

Home is a loving anchor. I pass lots of homes in this Village.

I like your decorations, all you homes. Since it’s work time, you don’t see me pausing at your sparkle lights and dancing reindeer. You don’t notice me savoring your poinsettias and Charlie Brown Christmas banners. What fun!

I was having a glorious walk with God’s soft breeze and gentle mist and…what’s this???

A peaceful understanding suddenly wrapped me up as I walked. I didn’t feel any chill at all. God whispered, “Home is where I AM. I AM here.”

I draped my scarf over my (somewhat achy) heart. I remembered how God came down to earth…to our home at Christmastime.

I remembered Jesus is still right here, a neighbor knocking at our doors. I remembered how I let Jesus into my own home: my heart.

I walked on feeling quite comfy, scurrying past puddles, wiping a drippy nose and singing soft Christmas songs. The most important part of home is God.

There’s nothing like sharing even the most dismal space with a glorious GOD!

As a gal who’s slept on the floor of caved-in hurricane wreckage, I can tell you even messed up homes can be holy when you let Jesus in (Rev 3:20).