What Makes a Home

The wind blows hard against the sides of our van, husband hanging on with both hands, trying to avoid crushing into guardrail or semi truck as we chased the sunset, homeward.  I'm winding green wool around two bamboo sticks, watching the road and taking in the white landscape, every now and then pointing out a farm, Christmas lights, a home on the side of this slushy gray highway.

In the back, a few are sleeping, the others watching the snow flutter by.  9 hours in the car is long for anyone, and they do as well as can be expected, only now and then complaining of legs aching to get out and run, but knowing the more we stop, the longer it will take.

It all strikes me as odd, this racing toward home when home is right here with us.  What is there that matters more than this, here?  We're together.  We're warm.

And even when we pull up in that familiar drive, rush into the empty house with hands full of luggage and gifts, why it was just an empty shell without us. 

We make it home.  When we aren't here, its not.

And now that we're back, the soul flickers back on.  There are babes being tucked into beds, candles being lit, prayers being whispered.

Much has been said of "making your house a home."  And much has been written, tips and tricks for decorating or the arrangement of furniture, the choosing of paint and wall paper.

But when it comes down to it, to make a home one must first make a home within themselves.  And I think you know Who must dwell there.  Without that, we're all homeless.

Thankfully, He came to be a home for the homeless - you and I. 

Thank you for your grace as I get back into being Home - and for the past week of being largely absent!