Home is where the heart is.
Well, that is how the saying goes, from my younger years I was fascinated with that statement always played around with the words
if home is where the heart is I’m homeless.
If home is where the heart is I’m constantly doing homework.
many other silly things, that fascination recently popped back up within me.
A home is an ideal place.
From young we think and wonder how will my house look like, we want to build add and make it beautiful, curtains and blinds, carpet, walls, what color will I paint what?
how does the yard look like?
what trees flowers all to make us feel at ease and calm safe MORE US our homes are an extension of us.
Some might even call heaven home, and when we think of home it is our little heaven.
A home is a safe place, a place of rest, a place of freedom our closest friends and family often come or even might have the key to this intimate place, a home is where we “Just be”
We all want to belong and home is what invites us to that intimate belonging where we are.
Often in the desire of belonging, we amputate our hearts “Homes”
Just to stand knocking on other doors, might be the guy or girl you like or a friend or group, work, a hobby, even our passions we seek to be invited inside. Far to easy we walk out our home in search for others with the misconception that we are not whole and with this other, we will have all four our chambers to make it home.
We will find a place to rent, we will find a part-time residence in the people we love and that is beautiful, yet it must not be that we are not enough that we are not worthy or precious, because honestly we are and have always been home.
What breaks my brain is that we do not have to live in this state or place of lack. living as if we are not home already, that we are not whole already that we are not a safe space and we need others for home improvement, that we are just this side project a forgotten shack.
It takes time to realize that we are home, it can not be told and not even proved or felt, I have felt less than for a very long time brushing up on doorknobs and ringing doorbells ding dong seeking at so many places, that I even thought I might be homeless a dog seeking a box, a man that has no heart for anyone to stay.
I no longer believe this, (at times the old lie creeps in just because my focus slipped from the truth)
There was not an aha moment, I just first started to knock on my door.
I have discovered that there is a home with an occupant already inside yes Jesus, He calls my heart home, He has been staying here all along.
Home is where the heart is even for Jesus and He calls my heart home and we know what He calls home, we have always been His heaven, this is beyond my words or my comprehension yet I am slowly realizing He has not been knocking to come in but to remind me that He has always been inside. Inviting me into myself to find how beautiful He has made my heart, His heaven, our home.
You are not just any old home, you are His heaven, walk in.
Peace and Love.