Home in Heaven

Many homes I have left behind, many people too. My heart is splintered and slivers left in many hands.  I still hear the sounds of home, feel the breezes and smell the rich stark aromas of beaches, mountains, rolling hills, stormy winters, balmy summers, crisp falls, fresh springs, arid dry seasons, dense build-ups, lush tropic rains and foggy chill.

I see the people.  Deep brown eyes of strangers, kind and welcoming, offering tea.  Brown leathered skin, worn calloused bare feet and a fire out back.  Sarongs and long black hair.  Language was not a barrier here. Children clinging, shy and curious and bold.  Thrilled and in awe.  Adults guarded and abashed, welcoming and warm. To be welcomed for differences alone is an experience apart from any other.

I see rich warmth, a kindred soul, kind-hearted and accepting eyes.  Long conversations under dark skies thick with stars.  Dreaming minds engaged and bodies wrapped in languid balmy heat.  Hearts bound in prayer for those we love and those we were yet to know.

I see her hurting and angry eyes.  I remember the call to prayer.  Daily.  For a long, long while.  For blessings to flow over her, for strength to love.  I remember the courage it took for a humbling heart to ask, courage I to this day admire.  The return to friendship lasting years to come.

I see two friends of the same mind, “iron sharpens iron” said one.  And so it was.  The three of us connected for a time, united still in love for God.

I see their faces, many many faces, smiling, sad, open and welcoming, familiar and loving,  I hear voices, laughter, long aching talks and comforting reassurances.  I hear wisdom and truth, and I hear the hurt and anger too.  I know the road of restoring relationships, it’s been traveled many times over.  Each rock and pit still present, each time I’ve learned, a little more, to thank Him for their navigation.  I know their children, love their friendships, long for the presence of their fellowship.

In all I know of then, and in all I love of now, I have yet to be called Home.

And in the hallow of night, the midst of heart-crushing struggle and on the highs of glorious joy, my heart in it’s many pieces longs to be made whole.  Aches for reunification;  For my thens to blend with my nows, for each place and person I have called home to come in under one roof.

For when I am reunited with all those I have left parts of me behind in, I will finally be the whole of each part that each person drew out of me, the best, the timeless, the person my God created.  A fraction of the reflection of Him we each hold, together with each other, fractions in glorious reflection.  Then home truly will be Heaven.

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