Sometimes, I think about home.

Not a house, or a place, but the destination. I think about heaven. I think about my Father’s smile when I get there. I think about the celebration that will erupt as I walk through the gates. I think about Jesus and crying and laughing as I run to Him.

I miss home.

My body may have never been but God says I was formed in the secret place. My spirit remembers. It remembers Gods gentle hands forming, molding, and creating. It remembers the love and freedom. It remembers the beauty of a sinless place.

Until it was placed in my body.

Then it met sin. It met death. It met the world. It grew hungry and desperate and began to crave life and love and the connection it once felt.

It wanted intimacy.

Then when I met Jesus, my spirit encountered intimacy once more. Jesus reminded my spirit of real love. He reminded me of home. No longer could I live without Him.

I simply asked and His Spirit came to make a home within me.

Oh the deep love I felt. It was my taste of heaven. My glimpse of the place I belong. The One who created me was here.

He never left me.

He has always been here. Always been with me. Always reminding me of home.

But

Sometimes, I still miss it. Sometimes, I want to live in complete peace. Sometimes, I want to breathe and not think about time. Sometimes, I want to be who I really am without fighting this world. To truly, be myself.

Till then, I will wait.

I will have patience. I will enjoy where I live. Because I know, that same Creator who once formed the very hairs on my head, has a purpose for my life here. I am supposed to be here. I am supposed to trust Him while I am here.

So, I trust you God. I know I can because you are my Father. You made me. You made my home. My heaven. Nothing is impossible for you. I will live this life well and with purpose, as long as you are with Me.

Oh Papa, I see it now. I understand.

You are my home.

Till the next chapter,
Katya