Lately, gratitude has snuck up on me.
It's when I open our fridge to get out my yogurt to mix with granola in the mornings.
It's when I snuggle in to watch a new episode of a tv show with a pumpkin candle and a warm blanket.
Home just fills me with such a sense of belonging. Last week during small group we were talking about what sin in the world breaks our heart the most. It was really interesting to see how everyone's hearts landed in different spots. We heard from people who were deeply wounded for abused children, terrorism, etc. At that moment, I couldn't really pinpoint what I believe the Lord has pressed on my heart as something to be passionate about.
The next day it clicked for me. I can't stand the thought of those without a home. I want every child to have a mama who gives them birthday breakfast on a special plate while they're still in pajamas. I want every high schooler to have a comfy bed with big plush pillows to cry into when they think they have a broken heart or when their peers are mean, with a dad who can rub their back and brush away their tears. I want every college student to have a parent who frequently visits their new home bringing a new dress for gameday or a package of socks or whatever the need is at that moment.
I am deeply convicted over a desire for people to be nurtured and safe, celebrated and loved. Under a roof that could be large or small or behind a grocery store or across the street from a park. Wherever. I want to welcome others into our home and let them feel like their voices are heard and cherished.
So maybe that's why some of my sweetest moments with Jesus are praising him while I empty the dishwasher or cut vegetables or dust surfaces. Am I still grieved with the "larger" heartbreaks of the world? Of course. But home is what gets me going.
