(Today’s post is where I and a multitude of other bloggers free write for five minutes about one topic, Enjoy! Click the icon to see what other’s are writing about “Home”)
Home was always where family was. Where my room, was my only room. Where my brother and I spent mornings with the Power Rangers, afternoons being Power Rangers (I was the pink one!) and evenings watching lightening bugs light up in the jar as we sat and talked. Where I stood beside my mother stirring the big soup pot or covering the sugar cookies with sprinkles. Where I learned to be a carpenter’s, plumber’s, mechanic’s assistant as my dad kept our home going. Where we all sang together on the same pew every Sunday. Where I watched my parents waltz around the kitchen, anxiously awaiting my turn around the dance floor. Where I knew who I was. I was daughter, sister, friend. Now, home is a big question mark. My family and I are still quite close but as another big move looms I am unsure where home is for me. But then I remember, Jesus is my home. God is my father, friend, provider and there I will always know my identity, it will never change, for He never changes. He is home.