The Aroma of Home

Longing for home gripped my heart this morning and wrenched it like a soaking towel. It twisted and dripped ache into my gut and then hung me out to dry. Like an intense craving, it passed, but I could liken it to the pangs I feel when I've been deprived of coffee. First, I think, "Mmm, I would really like a cup of coffee right now." As my head starts to ache and I get closer to home, the anticipation of putting on a pot and pouring a mug of this gorgeous indulgence takes over. The gurgling noises of the coffee machine and the fragrance of this liquid godsend suggest that I just may be addicted to the caffienated brew.

My inclinations towards home are similar. This morning I thought it would be great to be enfolding my mug on my parent's sofa and gazing out one of the many large windows at the grand forest that borders our lot.

By the time I get home, the view will more than likely be what you see above. Anticipation intensifies the closer I get to flying home. My heart aches and the sight of sweet faces on my screen saver suggest that I just may be addicted to my loved ones.

A similar longing flooded in this morning as we partook in the Lord's Supper. The service had been lengthy, not dreadful, but somewhat extensive. The pastor had several closing points that only served to open new series of insights which led to more finishing remarks and even more novel insights. Mentally interjecting 'amens' and hoping that telepathy had some worth, the final 'let us pray' signaled that it was almost time to leave the building...until I saw some leaders lift a table laden with lace and bearing wine with a platter of bread. Instead of dismay that departure would be delayed even longer, the sight of the sacred supper drew me to stay the length. How long had it been since I had last took the bread, drank the wine, and did this in remembrance of Him? Too long. Being the first Sunday of the month, family and friends were probably dining in memory of our Lord the same morning as I.

Every day the distance between the memory of our Lord and the meeting of my maker gets smaller. Am I excited and filled with anticipation? Not every second, but the pangs for those celestial shores can hit me hard sometimes. For to me to live is Christ and to die is gain. Those moments this morning and the frequent longings to see His face suggest to me that I just may be dependant on Jesus. There is a waiting though and a patient, sometimes impatient, prayer, "Lord Jesus, come quickly!".

Let's wait together. Pray together. While we wait, I'll put a pot on. We can chat about anything, laugh about the latest silliness, and confess a bit of homesickness. Would you like sugar and cream with your coffee?