Home

I cling, knuckles white, to the familiar. I pray feverishly that nothing snatches it away. I like stability, and sequential design.

Order.

In my house, one concern is carefully held up by the mortar of familiarity.

And so, the house is built.

As long as nothing changes, my house seems strong. No open windows. No drafts, or rain, or unforeseen pestilence.

I sit in my house, and wonder...

...how can it be so cold, with the windows clinging tightly to their frames?

I long for Home.

This is where I know I want to be. Not in a house. Not confined to one view, from a single window. I want to see more.


I must be broken...

 ...to see the beauty that lies before me.

Though, at times, I may be completely exposed to the elements, I am fully secure in the shadow of His wing.

This is where I find my Home.

"He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart." (Psalm 91:4)

"As for God, his way is perfect; the word of the LORD is flawless. He is a shield for all who take refuge in him." (2 Samuel 22:31)


Until next time,

The Carpenter's Daughter