home

There are days when it pleases me most to just know that all the things I hold dear and all the knowledge I have stored for a rainy day and all the coffee I haven't yet drunk are all just little things in the great big world.

I know that today because I looked at a map of where I will spend the next year of my life. I looked at a map and my eyes didn't go immediately to all the places I want to go someday or have already been, but they went to the place I will call home for a short piece of my allotted section.

And I remembered something which was prophesied over me two years ago, You will be an ambassador. Remember that this world is not your home. This will be a key lesson for you to hold onto. An ambassador represents that which he has come from and you have come from Heaven and that is your home. Represent it with grace and goodness. Keep the culture of Heaven. This is not your home.

So I know something about today, and yesterday, and all the days in between when I was born and when I was born again and the day I'll finally breathe my last: This world is not my home. And, which is more, Madrid is not my home. New York is not my home. North America is not my home and nothing else shall be my home. Not in a box and not with a fox.

So the things which I long most for, the things I write about and think about, the porch swings and lilac trees, the vegetable gardens and canned peaches, the fireplace and wool blankets, they all represent the good things to me. They represent home in my mind, and that's fine, it really is. Because Heaven promises me those things, [It does, you'll see.], but that's not really it. That's not really the end and that's not really the point. The real stuff is what I know here, while on earth, and that stuff is the gross discomfort of never really having what I want most out of this world.

And, for once, I'm fine with that, this world suddenly has nothing for me anyway.

Because today I knew that someday I'm going Home and what I'll know there will be the real stuff, the best substance and surpassing all the lilac trees ever accumulated, that's the stuff of Heaven. The stuff of God. The stuff I find I've really longed for all along.