This is not my Home.

July 24, 2006

Tonight I'm sitting on my front door stairs in the middle of Arlington, Virginia. An orchestra compiled of crickets, locusts, birds, and my neighbors piano join together to sing me a song. The warmth of the day has settled and a slight breeze sweeps across my face, whisping my hair out of my eyes. The fireflies beam brightly just above the green grass and I am reminded of childhood firefly hunts in Nebraska. The blue sky above turns purple as I look westward; the purple turns to dark blue with hot pink accents melding into the setting sun. As I gaze upward, I see the treetops dance in the wind as if they’re able to hear the same song as me. All creation is singing, shouting, stretching and praising Him right now and I will partake in the praise. The enchantment of tonight is alluring and captivating to my soul. All I can do is sit here, looking up into the open sky and think about the gift of this experience and the gift of life. I get to witness and testify that all creation acknowledges Him. Yet, in the midst of all this, I am reminded that this is not my home. Although this experience seems so unique in the moment, it is all too familiar at the same time. I hear a whisper in my being that says, “there is more”. As I relish in those words, I am brought to tears because inside I know, the more, is my home.