Home Votive


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And my people shall dwell in a peaceable habitation, and in sure dwellings, and in quiet resting places. Isaiah 32:18

Home is such a small word for a place that means so much. To me, home is a safe refuge, a sanctuary, a sacred space. Home does not depend on the size of the house or even the location. I'm blessed to live exactly where I want to be and wouldn't want to live anywhere else. Our house is small, but it is full of love, contentment and peace. 

I've lived in many places over the years. I am a native Oklahoman, but I have also lived in Louisiana, Arkansas, and even China for a year. I've also visited Pakistan and Mexico for a few months. But Dorothy was truly correct when she said, "There's no place like home." 

It used to be easy for me to hop on a plane and go far away from home for long periods of time. But now, I don't want to be anywhere else but home, and this is the only place that has ever felt like home to me. That's what home is supposed to feel like. 

Safety, security, comfort, peace, harmony, and the feeling that everything is right in your world. 

I walk around our land in the evenings, checking all of the animals, and talking with God. And I look at the beauty of nature all around me and am grateful, knowing how blessed we are.

Home is the things you can count on. I find comfort in routine. Here, I know when we begin to see the purple dead nettle, spring is near. I know that when the dandelions come up, spring has arrived. When the crickets and frogs sing at night, it won't be long before the cicadas start their chorus. Soon, the grass will be green and velvety soft beneath my bare feet. When the heat is almost unbearable, it's time for the Hibiscus and then the Naked Ladies to bloom. We hope for rain rather than drought, so that we can be sure to have enough hay for the winter. We wish we could bottle days like this to save some of the 100 degree heat for later in the year.  When the air begins to have an almost audible change and the atmosphere shifts, fall is near and it will be time for the Asian beetle invasion. Fried potatoes taste better when cooked with the back door open and smell of food mixes with the fragrance of the fresh breeze coming through. Days of color and warmth quickly change as the leaves drop. Christmas will not likely be white, but we know January and February can be brutal. This means breaking ice, carrying water, and hoping the goats won't give birth again during a blizzard or ice storm. If they do, it means a lot of extra work and worry, and leaving the rest to God.

But somehow we make it through it, one day at a time, and with a grateful heart, we hope to keep doing it all over again as long as God wills.

I hope Heaven is this wonderful. 

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