A couple of months ago, the boys and I made the five hour trek down to my parents' house one last time. One last time, I turned into the driveway that I've been coming home to for 25 years. I breathed that sigh of relief, as I always do, when I came around the bend and saw my parents' house sitting at the end of that dead end street. Everything is so familiar. This sweet home has greeted me many, many times over the years. Those late nights driving home from college, those joyful homecomings after being out of the country for a few months, the glazed over parents thinking, "We survived" as small children scream from the back seat. I always breathe deep and think, "I'm finally at Mama's house, everything is okay." And this time was no different. After having just lost my precious baby, it was just what I needed.
Oh goodness, saying goodbye to my childhood home was certainly bittersweet. All the memories. All the lessons. All the failures, successes and everything in between. The joys and sorrows. The hellos and goodbyes. It all came flooding back as I walked through each room and said goodbye.
It was on that stairwell that I bowed as a six year old and tenderly asked Jesus to "come into my heart." It was in that bedroom that I wrestled and wept and experienced hard moments and high joys. That uncovered porch out back where I first started using my karoke machine to belt songs to Jesus and hosting endless performances in my fancy tap shoes.
That play house in the back yard where many dolls were raised, floors were swept, and adventures were had. And then when I was in high school, my parents helped me convert that little play spot into my precious prayer cottage. It was here where I met with my Lord morning after morning and experienced probably the most spiritual growth of my life to date.
At that kitchen table, my Dad gave his heart to the Lord and all the angels in heaven rejoiced. That play room above the garage where many a small group has been held, prayers prayed, and songs sung. That big yellow chair where feet have been washed, knees knelt, and hard conversations had. That front door where people have entered and instantly felt loved.
That kitchen--Oh that kitchen! Where millions of love-filled meals have been labored over. Where too many people have squeezed in for light conversation and laughter. That coffee corner where steaming cups have met lips and confirmed that Mrs. Carol indeed makes the best coffee ever. That fireplace where holidays have been celebrated, parades watched, and lovely presents opened (Even when we had to use the AC in order to have a fire!).
That back porch where many morning sacrifices have been made as the tiny fountain bubbled and birds belted their joyful song. Where friends have met and babies played. The garden rock where many, many, many a photo has been staged. That pool where families have gathered, Independence days celebrated, and baptisms have been held. Oh what joyous celebrations when a new soul surrenders to their King!
That big circle driveway and dead-end street where excited kiddos have waited for a guest, where parallel parking has been learned, and where walking buddies have traveled up and down, up and down.
Oh what a beautiful place I've grown in! I praise my Father in Heaven for this blessed home. But as I reminisce, I am reminded that these walls are simply a shell. These walls do not harbor life. Life comes from the people within. The warmth, the love, the coziness, the "draw" of this precious home comes because Jesus lives within the people here, and they have invited Him in. Without Jesus, this house is just walls and a roof. But with Christ as the Head--it is a life-producing, love-showering, energy-renewing home of peace.
As sad as we are to say goodbye, we have so much more to look forward to. Yes, this was my home for 22 years, but this is not my eternal home--it is but a small shadow of the glorious hope we have to look forward to. So with tears in our eyes and nostalgic hearts, we can say goodbye with excitement and joy. For every day we spend on earth is one day closer to Jesus' return.
And then, home will be forever.
