Home. What is there to write about home that I haven't already said? Home is everything I want. A place to belong, to rest, to be known, safety, love, comfort and a thousand other precious things. But I'm more of a wanderer than a dweller. This gypsy blood has never known a home for more than a six year stretch, and that was only as a small child. I would plant myself like a tree, sending down roots, deep. But I'm a wanderer.
Feeling my longing for home like sand gritting between my teeth, one day He spoke to me. I put on flesh like a tent and wore a body as my home. Before that even the stary skies could not contain me, or time. My house was your world and I lived like you. All for you, so that your wandering heart would have a home. Invitation. Make my heart your home. As you wander, I go with you. I'll give you rest and be your dwelling. Until. You have a home, eternal, but you could never imagine.
Stop.
Now it's your turn!
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