I currently find myself sitting in an old RV on the beautiful piece of land that my family has just purchased. Outside the birds are chirping and the sun is beating down on our grove of Aspens, it’s beautiful. But inside this RV it smells like mothballs and it reminds me of old houses and for some reason I find my thoughts drifting to home and all things comfort.
Someone once asked me what it was to delight in something, and I responded that delight is something or someone that feels like home. A place that sits in your heart well, no matter your current surroundings or situations.
Delight is to find home everywhere. It’s not something that can really be seen, but only felt.
There is a long list of things that make me feel like home and they’re often found in unexpected places. For me home feels like Christmas morning and chai tea lattes. It feels like sunsets and horses running, and just about any puppy.
It feels like my grandparents backyard, full of raspberries , strawberries, apples, plums and every kind of flower I could dream up. It also contained my secret hiding place, which really was a small cramped area between some spiky bushes bushes but to my sister and I it was a place full of possibilities and magic. We were queens or unicorns or whatever we fancied in there, anytime I dream like that it feels like home.
Home is looking at someone and seeing nothing but beauty and being overwhelmed with love. Home is sunshine on the skin and standing next to the ocean. It’s that eye contact that makes you weak in the knees and it is Boulder Baked cupcakes. It’s rainbows and snowmen with Christmas carols. It’s board games and late night talks, its laughing till your side hurts.
All of those things feel like home to me. Almost as if I am living in a glimpse of heaven, getting to experience true warmth and comfort on earth.
I love those moments, moments of beauty that are just waiting to be discovered, waiting for your perspective to shift.
Then I think of other experiences that feel so anti-home. For me it is the suffocating smell of mothballs, or getting lost in an unknown place. It’s the look a man gives you reduces you to a piece of meat. It’s realizing that you hurt someone else very deeply.
Those feelings are horrible and in them I seem to be drowning in a place void of God, void of heaven.
This moment feels kind of anti-home because of the suffocating scent of mothballs that are invading my lungs. But as I sit and reflect and search for God I find that he is here too. And that makes me literally laugh out loud, because it is so ironic that something so anti-home can still contain God.
I mean it must, because those moments of feeling so anti-home, of feeling lost or confused, are often used more to teach us about home than those homey feelings ever could. At least when we choose to look for God in them.
I know that I am probably losing you, but if you think about it the times where I learned the most about God’s character of being a comforter were the times when I needed a comforter desperately. The times when I learned that God loved me unconditionally were after times when I did horrible things and still felt his love. The times when I felt that God literally was my home were the moments when I needed a safe place to nestle myself into.
I found that God, regardless if I could feel him, could always be found in the anti-home places.
And that kind of shifts my perspective in things. I guess what I am saying is that even in a place that reeks of mothballs, God’s waiting to be discovered. I can look out the window and I see birds flitting from aspen to aspen and be reminded of how God takes care of the birds of the air, of course he will take care of me. But if I am so focused on the mothballs I won’t ever look for God, all I would think about is how the mothballs are probably slowly killing me. But if I would take two steps outside I would see God, because God is here, even in an old stinky RV that reeks of mothballs.
So now home doesn’t just feel like sunshine and puppies, home can be found in a reeking alley-way. I know because I found him there, in the tears of prostitutes and the cries of children.
God finds us anywhere, on wings of eagles, or the depths of darkness. Home is where He is. And He is everywhere.
Certainly I am not asking for more mothball RVS, please continue to bring be some Boulder Baked Cupcakes and some fluffy kittens. I am just saying that you don’t really know how much of a home God is until you go to a place that assaults every idea of what home should be and you still find him there.
Because He is big like that, and He is good like that.
God thank you that I can go anywhere and call it home because you can be found there. Thank you for my home on Earth. Thank you for sunshine and puppies, but thank you for the mothballs too.
Thank you for being my home.