This morning, I remember my daughter’s explanation of “The Warm Welcome” from October. As I clear the breakfast dishes, refold the green blanket on the couch, plump the pillows, and reposition the bright yellow daffodils in a cobalt blue vase, I tell her I’m orchestrating my own Warm Welcome.
I want to come home to order and beauty.
In church, I think about the inner landscape of home and the Warm Welcome I have when I respond to God. As the poet writes in Psalm 90, “Lord, you have been our dwelling place throughout the generations.” I come home to that spiritual dwelling place within my own heart where the Holy Spirit waits for me, and I find the kind of peace and sanctuary I need. I’m home.
It’s not a location. I carry it with me.
That means it doesn’t matter where I am. And it means I can offer others a dwelling place they can have with them always, even when they are very far from home.
Journal: What does it mean to be “home”?