Ramblings

There was a house at the end of the drive. It was closer to home than the hill, and farther away than the white flowers that grew in the front yard. The pillars in the front were crafted from gray stone that seemed colossal at one time. Those pillars fairly reeked of wealth. It was a mansion in my little-woman eyes. Now the house is just a place I pass on the way to school, on the way to work, on the way anywhere. It used to be a destination in itself--in a way the only thing I truly recognized as a sign that home was just around the corner. Some houses are friends. But the house at the end of the drive was never quite a friend. It called me home with stern stiffness. 

Home is changing now. It seems smaller and more crowded, and deeper too. Things that are said aren't just things to say. Sometimes home feels lonely even when it is full of people. 

It depends on the people. Bibles sit on every shelf, just as they always have, but God never felt so far away. Maybe once before. 

God's still here. I'm still here. But it's that deepness that comes between us now. Home isn't as safe as it once was, now that I can see and feel and recognize: a bitter word is a result, the cause miles away through time's map. There are weaknesses here in my home that I never saw before. Maybe part of it is me, my own silly skin, thinner than starlight. I'm searching. 

Even at home, I'm searching. There's inspiration to be found in the softest sound of a beating heart, or the squawking cringe of an old couch, or the bark of a dog, or the smile of a stranger. I don't always see it at first, but home is a place where stories thrive. Year in and year out, people are crafted in a home, just as hamburgers are in McDonalds. 

I think I'm almost ready to leave. I didn't think I would be, but now it seems like I could actually feel ready. 

The world is out there, and it doesn't scare me as much as it did a little while ago. 

The world is still big, but I'm not as small as I used to be. There's a lot to discover, and discovering things always makes me feel better somehow. After all, something tells me God will be easier to find outside, once everything I know is a little farther away.