At home~

Well-being is washing over me this morning.  It's crisp and cool here in the Mitten, although bright and sunny.  It's a kind of morning I think of as particularly "Michigan," although I'm sure people everywhere have the same.  All that's missing is the smell of a campfire, which I will remedy shortly when I go out to do a little bit of yard time. 
It's mornings like these that I'm especially glad that I live where I do, my house I mean.  There are moments when I'm trying to cram something into our too small closets, when there's no perfect place to house our computer or I long for a master bathroom.  All of these are issues that come along with a post war bungalow.  Newer homes certainly provide more amenities, no doubt about it.  But this morning, I wouldn't live anywhere else, unless it was The Farm.  There are certain days when somehow, this old house has even the smell of history and home.  Do you know what I mean?  A scent of my gramma's perfume, of the wooden structure beneath the plaster walls and even of my grampa's cigarettes.  Those are the moments, especially on crisp and bright mornings, when I feel at home in all the ways that at home is right and good.
This past week, a friend with whom we once attended church passed away.  She was 40, 4 kids ages 4-19 and married to her high school sweet heart.  She had breast cancer, and after years of fighting, the Lord's will was done and she moved from one home to another.  When I heard the news, I sat and cried.  And cried some more.  It seemed like such a deep sadness, loss and even waste of life.  I knew she didn't have long before being called to heaven and yet, when it happened, it was somehow shocking. 
I hope that this morning, her precious family is awakening to the embrace of being at home.  I hope they can find her scent on the air.  I pray that they feel every wonderful detail of the home she made for them before she went truly home.  Because after all, these glimpses of home sweet home are like appetizers for those born in Christ.  It's a taste, a peek, a prologue of being at home. 
This morning, a 40 year old mom is awake forever with her spirit at perfect rest.  Can you imagine the fragrance of heaven?  Can you envision the beauty she sees?
When I have these moments, of being at home, I need to remember that this isn't really home after all. That there is a place for me that is all at once, everything I need or want or desire.  It is filled with every scent that means at home to me, it is a soul so completely at peace that there is no more need for sleep.  It's an eternal awakening to a perfect morning.
It's home.