Feels like home to me

Today my whole family and my Mom and Dad and I went to Chesapeake, VA to worship with the Bayside Church of Christ congregation. For those of you that don't know, I grew up in the CofC and haven't been back in quite a while. Not because anything went wrong, but because I married a man who grew up Methodist and we decided to join a church that we both felt comfortable in so we are now happy members at Commonwealth Chapel, which is loosely associated with the Assemblies of God.

But after being gone for quite a while from the denomination I called home, there is something so comforting about going back to a familiar place, smelling a familiar smell, seeing a familiar face. There's something about the that specific comforting feeling that our brains associate with "home". I believe that's a blessing from God.

Growing up in church we used to sing a song called "This World is not my Home" and it was all about how short our time here is on this earth. It was a gentle reminder that the things that we place so much importance in are but a fading shadow. That here isn't our home. That we're just passing through. And while that is true, I think God also gives us these small glimpses or feelings of "home" every once and a while to bless us. Today was one of those days for me.

We walked in and took our seats, one of the gentlemen from the congregation said a word of welcome and then there was singing. Beautiful, a capella, 4 part, lovely, sounds like home to me, singing. We sang 3 of my favs and I all but belted them out because it felt so good to hear "home" from my spot in the last row.

We took communion. Together as a family. My boys dropped coins in the collection plate. They don't do that at our church because they are already in their classes when the offering is taken. The sound of little hands with quarters was so satisfying.

We were blessed by a beautiful sermon about truly hearing GOD, sang a few more songs, stood around to hug familiar faces and then headed off to get lunch with my Granny.

My Granny, Betty Lou Hoskins, is 77 years old and my only remaining grandparent. We don't see her often but when we do the conversation is peppered with Southern Alabama sayings "I do declare", "I reckon" and "Oh my stars above" and more hand gestures than are truly necessary. I love her dearly. Her hugs feel like home.

Maybe the most sobering reminder of home came when we left the restaurant and went to see my Aunt Jean, who lives in Norfolk. She is also 77 and just lost my uncle, the love of her life, in April. He was 7 years younger than she was and died suddenly of a heart attack. No warning, he just went home. Today was the first time I have been to the house since he left. The house is quieter now. More empty even with her in it. And I cried as we drove away, for her and for us because I miss him. And yet, as I type this, I am smiling because my Uncle Darrell is home now. He doesn't just get small wiffs of the "home" smell, or hear a few bars of a congregational hymn and feel "at home". He is done with his pilgrimage and sitting down with his Jesus safe and sound at home with the Lord. And that is fantastic.

Today I was blessed by glimpses of home. And it doesn't get any better than that.