I love going on vacations. Especially to the warmth and sun.
Getting out of my routine, taking the mornings slow, and filling the hours with adventure, exploration, and much needed rest.
It fills my soul.
And when its it's time to come home - there's a sense of foreboding - dread even.
Until I open the door. It is then that it hits me. I'm home.
There's nothing like coming home.
As much as I crave adventure, it is home that grounds me.
Home is where we've made memories. Home is where we've raised our children.
Home speaks to what has been and anticipates what's yet to come.
It's here our roots run deep. The memories. The hardships. The joys. The tears.
And yet we know home is not forever. It serves a purpose for a season. And often when we're least expecting it, home moves.
We change jobs.
Our season shifts.
We decide it's time to move on.
Though the houses we call home are guaranteed to change in our lifetime, there is one home that stays constant.
That stands the test of time. That stays rooted no matter our season of life. No matter what wave of life we ride.
This home has no earthly dwelling.
It is in the arms of our Heavenly Father.
It is in Him that we can find our dwelling place.
A dwelling place that stays.
That loves.
That forgives.
That offers grace. And mercy.
That speaks life.
That is always present.
Our earthly home won't last.
But our Creator - Our Savior - does.
And He wants nothing more than for you to run to Him.
His arms are open, ready to embrace you.
Do you see Him smiling? He's welcoming you in.
And whispering "Come Home."
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