Seeing Home

I never rode a school bus until high school.
During my elementary school years, I walked to and from school, or was driven.
It was too close for a bus to come and pick up the children in our neighborhood.
It was far enough away that it was a decent walk.

Not the proverbial…I walked miles in the snow…and the rain story that you tend to embellish when you are older.
But truly one mile from door to door.

There were seven girls that all lived in the same neighborhood.
Those were the days of uniforms and knee socks that never stayed up.
You did this sort of dance as you went along.
Take a few steps, pull up your socks, walk some more…

There were those ingenious girls who put rubber bands on the top of their knee socks to hold them up.
If it didn’t cut off the circulation, it left you with a deep red line under your knee.

I don’t remember the conversations as we walked…school “stuff” probably.
The normal complaints about homework or teachers.
The secret crushes someone had that particular week.

There was no school cafeteria, so lunch boxes were the order of the day.
You learned pretty quickly that a Thermos didn’t keep your milk cold until lunch.
We were a small school, and lunch was eaten at your desk.
A towel was mandatory to cover your desk, protecting it from spills.

After a long day, coming home was the best part.
Even if you were tired, you had renewed energy that last quarter mile.
Moms were home.
Snacks were waiting.

There was a road that ran perpendicular to my house.
As we turned onto that road on our walk home, I could see my driveway a block away.
I could see if my mother’s car was there or not.

She took care of my grandmother back then, who lived in the city about forty minutes away from our home.
Every day, she would go into to see my grandmother, shop for her, cook her dinner, do her laundry, and clean her house.
Then she came home and did that same thing all over again at our house.

Whenever I would turn the corner and not see her car, there was this sinking feeling.
Was she all right? Was my grandmother all right?
As we walked on, I would inevitably see her pull into the driveway.

I really don’t know how she did what she did.
She would always try to time her trip so that she was home when I got home.
Looking back, I am so grateful.
That she was home for me was a gift.

I am sure she was exhausted, but she would sit and listen to my stories.
She was always interested and knew the right questions to ask.
She knew how to get to the heart of the matter.

It’s really no different with God.
He is always home.
He is ready to listen to our stories.
He knows how to get to the heart of the matter.

We may not be able to physically see our eternal home…yet.
But we can “see” it in our imaginations as we read about it in His Word.
It is there, just down the block on our life’s journey.
That heavenly home is being kept for us who believe.

Now we know that if this earthly tent we live in is destroyed, we have a building from God, an eternal house in heaven, not built by human hands. Meanwhile we groan, longing to be clothed with our heavenly dwelling…(2 Corinthians 5:1)

God knows about that sinking feeling we have when we are not home yet.

…they only saw them and welcomed them from a distance. And they admitted that they were aliens and  strangers on earth. People who say such things show that they are looking for a country of their own…they were longing for a better country- a heavenly one. (Hebrews 11:13, 14, 16)

If we look, really look…we can see God…not just pulling in…but always there.
At that time, I will gather you; at that time I will bring you home. (Zephaniah 3:20)

Can you see it?
Do you have that renewed energy as you journey on?
We are disheveled from our journey…doing our own dance as we walk.
We talk to others along the way…telling about the professed love we have for our Savior.

God is always home. His timing is perfect.
He has much more than a snack for us.
On that day, we will feast at the Wedding Supper of the Lamb.
We will share that feast with our Lord Jesus.
He is the One who serves…still bearing the scars of His love for us.

One day, we will turn the corner and go Home.
Until then, Home is at a distance…but it is visible.
We need to keep it in sight as the focal point of our journey.
Can you see it?