There Are Days
photo credit Parker Fitzgerald
I went home at Christmas. A lot of people do, but home wasn’t quite home this year. My parents moved from my old home of Fort Mill, South Carolina back to the great state of Louisiana. This holiday season was the first time I was able to visit the house where my parents reside and currently call home. It was strange. It was like wearing someone else’s favorite sweatshirt- it didn’t fit perfectly and was worn and faded in the wrong places. Don’t get me wrong, my parents house is beautiful and they are more than hospitable, but it wasn’t home.
After being in Louisiana for a few days I hopped on a plane to head back ‘home’ in South Carolina. As I walked through the door to my not completely furnished and messy bachelor pad I felt instantly deflated. “This wasn’t home either,” I thought.
Both the places I had called home within the past week really didn’t feel like home. So where was home? And why did I have this longing to be there or at least on my way there.
My longing was for a heavenly home. A home not yet realized. A home for the weary, heavy-laden and defeated.
“In my Father’s house are many rooms. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you?” John 14:2
Listen, I’m fine. I’m not depressed. I don’t want to die, but there are days when I feel a longing for a home that no house with pillows, lampshades, and fireplaces are ever going to be able to satisfy.
