all this earth
Then their eyes were opened and they knew Him; and He vanished from their sight.
And they said to one another, "Did not our heart burn within us while He talked with us on the road, and while He opened the Scriptures to us?" Luke 24:31-32 (NKJV)
When I was in about the 6th grade, my family took a trip to Seattle to see my Aunt Dee and Uncle Steve and their family. I have odd snatches of recollection of the trip. Their beautiful cozy home with large glass windows that seemed to be built into a slanted city hill. Feeding my baby cousin Sally in her high chair in the kitchen as the sun went down, warm lights glowing everywhere with the knowledge of the chill outside. Walking to Nordstrom's one afternoon with my aunt through the downtown streets, the soft gray sky all around us, holding us. The promise of rain when it wasn't raining. The smell and lived-in greatness of sea salt spray that settled on my skin and sweatshirt, that made me want to explore the piers and boats and never leave.
Sure there was the fact Big Foot might be in the next block of streets. Or the fantastic reindeer sweater bought for me in the Nordstrom teens department that I could take home to the Midwest and remember the love. And there was even a trip to an island where we ate baked salmon cooked over an open fire while we watched Native Americans dance ceremoniously through the smoke and haze of the flames. For someone who wanted to be nicknamed Lil' Pup after her Schwinn bike, it all seemed right.
It felt like home. After that trip, I thought I would move to Seattle when I was older. I looked at the university there but pretty sure I was talked out of it by my parents. Not practical. What would I study? Then I dreamed of the day I would live there maybe with my own family. And I married a native Texan. Then we got older and the move seemed less likely and only my dream, really.
So it's with great joy that I get to go back, about 30 years later, and see what I fell in love with at such a young age. But I already remember.
It's that wanting of home. Because even when I'm in my own lovely home in Kyle, surrounded by the people I love most, the dog I love most, the couch and movie I love the most, it's still not home.
The closest I get to home these days is when I climb my staircase, sit at my desk that faces a window that affords a view of high oak tree limbs, light a beautiful red candle and open my Bible. It's what I long for when I'm at my desk at work. It's what keeps me centered. I stare into the candle flame and linger on a sentence I've read. Everything I carry in my heart, Jesus carries for me.
Today it's the above verse. The times my heart has burned within me is when Jesus has walked with me and I've known it's him. When he's talked to me. The older I get, the less I'm impressed with anyone else than Jesus. You could put the great teacher Francis Chan next to me at my desk ready to share his latest word from the Lord, and I'd really rather listen to Jesus talk to me through my New King James Bible. Then I might listen to Francis. Jesus who shows me the beauty of my life and who steers me from it's ugliness.
He makes all things new for me. He is my home. He is the road I take and the song I sing. He is the laughter that heals, the words that I write and the love that brings rest. He is Jesus.
Then He who sat on the throne said, "Behold, I make all things new." And He said to me, "Write, for these words are true and faithful." Revelation 21:5 (NKJV)