I’m leaving for a weekend speaking engagement—the kind where I swoop in, keynote four sessions, then swoop out, never to see most of the conferees again. No one knows me at these events; they’ve only heard of me or read about me or seen my books or listened to me once before.
Even though I’m welcome at these gatherings, and even though I may be wanted, I am not loved.
Not there, anyway.
Here, at home, I am. Maybe not perfectly, but I’m loved nonetheless. My husband and kids love me; of that I’m certain. My canine kids love me, too, as only they can. Even my friends and family love me (warts and all—I’ll never be able to figure out why). ;o)
Knowing I’m loved, that I have arms (paws, tails, and tongues) waiting to welcome me home, helps me rest easy while I’m away, even among strangers.
But a different love--knowing I have a God in heaven waiting to welcome me Home, who loves me forever and loves me no matter how I often fail and do the wrong thing—the truth and dependability of His love carries me. It assures me even more.
So as I go, I’ll remember the warmth of Elsie in my lap and Baxter supporting my feet (see pic above). I’ll recall Ridge’s sloppy affection. I’ll carry my husband’s embrace in my heart and my children’s love there, too. But I’ll rest in the certainty of a greater Love. The Love that will see me home.
‘Til next time,
Joan
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