Home. Home. Home.

I'm sitting in our living room at home. Real home. Where mommy and daddy are. I've lived in this house since I was one. We lived here while we remodeled it to fit all five of us. I've never changed bedrooms. I see my dad washing dishes (yes he's awesome) through the window in our kitchen as I write this. A window that used to look out into the backyard. I just got home a few hours ago from cstat, which is very much home as well. I sit in this house and all these memories come to mind from over the years. When the air conditioner leaked in my room, Dad tried to nail the soggy sagging ceilling back up and it fell on him, leaving a gaping hole. I had to live in chaney's room for weeks! Our den is a beautiful blue color (I am a blue fanatic) and I think about how we almost didn't paint it this color and painted it lime green instead. Trust me, we made a good decision. Or this summer when I had 15 of my favorite people over for dinner. So fun! I picture all of us sitting on the floor because we had no furniture that week. But more than the building of my home, the actual structure, is the essence that is home. The people, my family, both blood and of Christ, that inhabit these walls, whether visiting or actually living here, these are what make me love home. I love people. I love family. Don't you know this is just mere symbolism of our homecoming to heaven one day? How I long for that day! Such a beautiful picture that just struck me. As much as I love coming home to rest and just be, this is how heaven will be one day. We get to just BE with Jesus. And it never ends. Glorious.