When my son was in grad school, and he would call home, if I was cooking; he would often say; “would you make that when I am home?” Or, if we were out walking or at dinner, he would say, “can we do that next time I am home?”
We as believers are displaced. Calling our four walls home, when our real home is the eternal, unimaginable expanse of heaven. I realized it slowly. I realized it when my daddy passed away and this fierce confidant of mine was no longer near me with a listening ear and a oh so soft heart.
I realized I had to grow up and grow into the fact that this side of heaven opens a path away from fear if we choose to believe in a Father who lends us His Spirit. Through that Spirit, we have access to joy and peace and understanding of what we are meant to do and who we are meant to be.
I love writing about exactly this. I love watching Him teach me through the love of my husband and the uncanny creativity of my children. I love Jesus. And talking about, writing about Him is one of the greatest joys in my life.