One of our foster daughters was Little Miss Sunshine. She bounced on her toes all day long with the joy of living, her curls dancing over her shoulders. But quieting down in her room at night, we’d hear her crying. I attempted to comfort and pray with her, but I couldn’t give her what she yearned for most. She moaned, “I want my mom.”
It didn’t seem to matter what they’d suffered there, or how much they enjoyed living with my family, my foster children expected some day they’d be home again and all would be well. And though our L.M.S. was a part of our family for most of her childhood, she didn’t outgrew the deep longing in her heart for home.
“How lovely is your dwelling place, Lord Almighty! My soul yearns, even faints, for the courts of the Lord; my heart and my flesh cry out for the living God. Even the sparrow has found a home, and the swallow a nest for herself, where she may have her young—a place near your altar, Lord Almighty, my King and my God. Blessed are those who dwell in your house; they are ever praising you” (Psalm 84: 1-4 NIV).
Something’s Missing
I’ve noticed I continue to search for home. It seems I’m always interested in improving the one I have or moving to a different one. Or like others my age, we wish for our grown children to be nearby.
It’s more than just the grass being greener on the other side. I think it’s innate, that there’s something in us that recognizes things are not as they should be; we’re not home yet.
Last weekend Jerry and I went camping with my son’s family. My three young grandsons threw hundreds of rocks into the river and wet pairs of shoes multiplied by the tent door. We ate our camp food around the fire and explored waterfalls and lava beds. At the end of the day the boys collapsed, falling asleep in a heap.
God’s Open Door
Like my grandsons, I relish having adventures with the people I love. It’s great to come to the end of my day satisfied in my relationships and ready for rest. Is that what it will be like when I come to the end of my life? I think so.
The scripture says, “my heart and my flesh cry out for the living God.” If he has a place in his house for a swallow to build her nest, I know there’s room for me. And my response to his open door is extreme gratitude. “Blessed are those who dwell in your house; they are ever praising you.”
Prayer
Thank you so much, Lord, for the promise of being with you forever. My song of joy and praise will be unending!
by Kathy Sheldon Davis
kathysheldondavis.com 