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  • Writer's pictureBecky Proctor

Home, it's a feeling

Do you remember drawing pictures as a child?

No ink. Just a pencil or crayons or a combination of the two.

(Colored markers had yet to be invented.)

Can you remember what you drew?

People in the beginning, but then after spending some time working on the roundness of faces, the squiggles of hair and the weirdly proportioned arms and legs, you needed a place for the people to live. A house or, more specifically, a home.

Your first depictions of home may have started out as oddly angled box-shaped structures. The people, perhaps a big mom and a bigger dad and a small child or two, were always standing outside the home.

Were they afraid to go in, or was the house too small to hold them?

I see now. There is a door, but no door knob! No wonder they are standing outside.

As we grew and developed our eye-hand coordination, our art became more detailed.

Mullions and ruffled curtains appeared in the rectangle-shaped windows. A chimney appeared on the roof, with smoke curling upward toward the heavens. In the upper right or left corner of the page, a giant yellow orb of sunshine hovered, with rays like fingers reaching, reaching, reaching out to illuminate the scene.

Off to the side of the home, there might be a shade tree with a huge green canopy and a chunky trunk that was a fudge-colored shade of brown. A path led directly to the front door. And there were jagged blades of green, green grass here and there. Oversized tulips, too.

It's been years since I thought about those early works of art, but one night last week, I stood outside and gazed into my house and I laughed. The window that eventually came to grace every picture I ever drew of home was looking back at me.

You see my childhood home had a picture window and in that picture window there was a lamp on a table. Although I could never have captured the warm glow of the light in my childish drawings, I always put the lamp right in the center of the big window.

The lamp alone spoke volumes.

“You are welcome here.”

“We’ve been expecting you.”

“Come inside and rest.”

“Are you hungry?”

“Take your coat off. Kick your shoes off. Stay.”

It reminds me of Jesus’ words in Luke 11:9, “…Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you.”

He is our spiritual home.

Anyone who approaches Jesus will never be turned away. We are welcomed with loving and open arms. We are relieved of our heavy spiritual burdens. We are nourished by His Word and we rest in the knowledge that He will never leave or forsake us.

Sadly, not everyone has a pleasant image related to "home," but I invite you to your creative imagination now and picture your own idea of home.

Close your eyes and see yourself walking up to the door, knocking timidly and waiting for just a moment. Then picture Jesus opening the door. He takes your breath away! His smile is beyond description, but something you've been longing for your whole life. He steps forward, reaches and then folds you into His warm embrace. The relief you feel is overwhelming. You are overcome with emotion. You don't know whether to laugh or to weep. You do both. He guides you to the best seat in the house and says, "You are home."

Sit with that image, that emotion, that smile it brings to your face and be blessed, dear friend.

Lord, thank You for the feeling of coming home to You. You are our Portion, our Strong Tower. As the waves of life crash against us, we put our trust in You, the Author and Finisher of our Faith and our one true Home. Amen.

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