I'm Home

When I was in junior high, I got home from school each day about an hour before my dad got home from work. I usually spent that hour watching television, The Brady Bunch and Gilligan's Island to be specific. And I usually watched those shows while curled up in my dad's black leather recliner, eating peanut butter and jelly on toasted bread. And each day when Daddy came in the door, he would always call out, "I'm home. Thank you, Lord, I'm home." I was too young at the time to understand the significance in his words or the abundant meaning in those two small sentences. And quite honestly, it's only been in recent years that I think I've truly come to appreciate the feeling Daddy had each day when he opened the squeaky storm door, turned the handle on the basement door and entered his home, his refuge, his place that was all his own.

Each day when I come home from work, Julie, my lab, trots to meet me at the door into my kitchen, tail wagging, always happy to see me arrive. And I always say to her, "I'm home. Thank you, Lord, I'm home." Then I walk down the hall and let J.R. out of his kennel and repeat the words to him as he dances around my legs, beyond excited that I'm home. And every single day, there is a feeling that washes over me as I go through this routine ... a feeling of calmness, of peace, of safety.

This evening when I left work, the skies were black and a torrential rain was falling. By the time I got to my car, my clothes were soaked, my shoes were soaked ... even my hair was dripping from the rain. It took me twice as long as it normally does to drive home, and as I turned into my driveway, I was just finally beginning to dry out and get warm again. Watching my garage door slowly open, I thought of Daddy and his daily greeting that has become my own. As I took my hands off of the steering wheel where they had been tightly clenched as I drove through the storm, I realized how relieved I was to be home, how thankful I was to have a home to come to, how much I just wanted to get inside, greet my pups, change into dry clothes, eat dinner and settle in for the night.

As I stepped into my kitchen and gave Julie my customary greeting, I suddenly began to think of heaven ... what it will be like, whether we will recognize those from this life whom we loved, how it will feel to see Jesus face to face. My eyes filled with tears as I thought of how my earthly home will pale so greatly in comparison to my ultimate home, my heavenly home, my eternal home. John 14:2-3 says, "In My Father's house are many dwelling places; if it were not so, I would have told you; for I go to prepare a place for you. If I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you to Myself, that where I am, there you may be also." 

One day, whether through death or the return of Jesus Christ, I'll be going home ... and I'm thinking that when I walk through the gates of heaven, I'll look for Daddy ... and I'll call out, "I'm home. Thank you, Lord, I'm home."