Tuesday, April 24, 2007

Coming home

Several years ago, while looking for a new home, I drove into a neighborhood about sundown. It was a fall evening, the air was crisp and the leaves were turning. As I drove by one house, it seemed so inviting. Lights in the window. Big, red door. It just looked cozy. While we didn't buy that particular house, it has served to inform every subsequent search for a new home: if it feels like we are coming home, it will be high on the list.

We had such an experience when we moved to Brunswick. The first time I drove into the neighborhood in which we live, it was a grey, rainy day. The main road winds underneath a canopy of moss-covered oak trees that are centuries old. It felt like I was coming home.

The Psalmist said:
When I observe Your heavens, the work of Your fingers, the moon and the stars, which You set in place, what is man that You remember him, the son of man that You look after him? Psalms 8:3-4 (HCSB)


As I drove out of the 'hood this morning, I didn't see the heavens, the moon, and stars... those moss-covered oaks - works of His fingers - reminded me of His provision. And it felt like coming home.

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