The sun shone warmly through the window as we sat around the table for
breakfast. As we lifted our heads from prayer, the stillness was broken
by Alissa’s soft voice. “Mommy, where is our home?” Those words struck
me. I had never stopped to realize how all this traveling was affecting
my girls.
My thoughts flashed back to our trip the night before. As the stars
twinkled in the sky, we squeezed into the front seat of the pick-up
truck to begin the 10-hour trip back to Kentucky. I rested my head on
the window as the girls began asking questions. “When will we get there?
Will we see our friend, Gracie? How long will we stay this time?” It
doesn’t matter where a person lives; there is no place like home.
Returning to the present, I searched for a gentle way to respond to
Alissa’s question. Before I could think of anything to say, a smile came
to her face, and she said, “I know, our home is in Heaven.” I leaned
back into my chair, relieved. God had come through again, giving us
peace about our situation.
It reminds me about how Abraham followed God’s leading and wondered when
he would arrive at his home, the New Jerusalem. It was a child’s small
voice that reminded me to be patient until we get to our home in Heaven.
God still has work for us to do. When it is accomplished, He will take
us to that Heavenly home where we will stay forever. —Pam Lello
