My Home

 

This isn’t a picture from the first time I saw 318 Main Street in Oxford and fell in love with it. This picture is from the Blizzard of 1993 after we had raised our two kids and they had left the nest. I love the snow-burdened magnolia bent to the ground and the glistening white welcoming you to the front door. It reminds me of all those years we welcomed many into our home. It was a big house and often filled with friends and family. After school or church, it often became a respite for teenagers. This old house welcomed me from the first moment I saw it through the thirteen years we made it our own.

In 1997, my husband and I sold this old home on Main and moved to a smaller one. Several years ago, we received pictures of the house from our son. It had been condemned, and he had asked to walk through it. The house was in horrible condition, the result of people who had abused it. The home on Main Street that had become ours in 1984—the home where we had raised our children and welcomed many into its embrace was finally torn down. And with it, a piece of my life on this earth seemed to vanish.

Even if the house is no longer on Main Street, the memories are alive in my heart just as much as the home that once was a part of them. Life was life. It wasn’t perfect. There was pain, heartbreak, and joy within those walls. We were a family with two adults trying to help our teenagers discover a life of integrity and faith and often making incredible mistakes in the process. We were a family with two kids striving to learn who they were, and, who like any other teenager, tested their boundaries. But despite all the times that challenged us, we were a family forged by love, respect, and grace. We didn’t labor in vain to build a loving home. We had one. We've been blessed throughout this life with a love for each other that has withstood many challenges.

Recently, I had a dream. In the dream, I knew I was in heaven. I could see something hazy in the distance. I was drawn to it. As it came into focus, it looked like our old home on Main Street. But not only did it look like it. I slowly came to realize it was our home that had been torn down! And now it was incredibly beautiful and perfect! It welcomed me. I instinctively knew this was my home prepared for me in heaven, and it was just waiting for my return. What had been destroyed on earth had come to life in heaven. What I had lost was found. Just as Jesus had given me new life, my home lived again.

Jesus prayed for God’s will to be done on earth as it is in heaven. Is there really meant to be a difference between here and there? Eternal life isn’t something to be attained but something I have already received by faith. The house I believed dead, lives. The dream I believed dead, lives again. This life that is meant for abundance here on earth is an unending overflow in heaven. The things I believe are gone forever aren’t. His gifts and calling are forever. His Kingdom lives in me. I live in His realm. There is so much I cannot grasp now, but I know that one day I shall clearly see. 

Whatever you have lost, still lives. Whatever you believed dead, still lives in Him. Never despair. Never fear. There is no loss there. Your dream was here, but it also lives there. It’s eternal. It’s forever. You have nothing to lose in Him. The loss you have endured on this earth is no loss at all. It’s found and waiting for you.