Earlier this year I went to Warren, a small town where I was born and where my grandparents live. It’s early in the morning, and my granddad is cooking me breakfast. It’s these moments, ones that I’ve experienced since a little girl, that matter the most. The “little momma” nickname I hear from across the house still rings beauty to my ears. Even as I sit in his den of 20 odd years, I get to write this as a grown woman and no longer a baby. My own bills, my own trials, my own story. It feels good to be here around family. To wake up to breakfast I’ve been eating at the hands of him my entire life: Grits, eggs, sausage & toast.
Wherever I went, whatever I found myself in, whenever I needed a place where unconditional love reigned…. I knew that I could come here.
Feels good to be home….
Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. (Matthew 11:28)
Many people yearn for a place to come home to. Where we can go where we know we’ll be loved on and treated well. A safe place where I know I can go no matter what the burdens of life may be. Break ups, financial blows, nowhere to go and in need of help. The house of a loved one is where you can find me. Repairing, regrouping and returning to right again.
Isn’t that how life can be after a wrong turn? Not just in the natural but spiritually. It feels good but only for a moment. We’re stressed, uptight, hurt, aimless and overwhelmed; missing the help that was here all along. The safe place. The example of love. The reality of forgiveness. Heavy burdens, heavy laden?…lay it all down at home.
When we are most humble, is when we’ll be able to hear clearly.
17 “But when he came to himself, he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired servants have bread enough and to spare, and I perish with hunger! 18 I will arise and go to my father, and will say to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you, 19 and I am no longer worthy to be called your son. Make me like one of your hired servants.”’ (Luke 15:17-20)
Like the time the prodigal came to himself and realized he was living beneath what his inheritance provided for him, is at times, just like us. We’re enticed, we make bad decisions, we disappear, in that order. But the story thankfully doesn’t end there, and it doesn’t for us either. In humility he turned from his decisions and came back home, ready to come live with his father again.
In joy his Father grabbed the fatted calf with a robe and a ring..ready to welcome his son, back home. I’m sure if that was me, the meal wouldn’t be a fatted calf but more like….
Grits, eggs, sausage & toast.
22 “But the father said to his servants, ‘Bring out the best robe and put it on him, and put a ring on his hand and sandals on his feet. 23 And bring the fatted calf here and kill it, and let us eat and be merry; 24 for this my son was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’ And they began to be merry.
And in that moment, He probably said in his heart…
“It feels good to be home….”
You can come home too…