Coming Home

The bay is quiet now, although the sky's still moody, following a brief but ripping storm that took out the power at 2:31 this afternoon. That's what the stove clock reads right now, even though the sun has begun its late afternoon descent, angling in the front windows, when it gets the chance, through the lingering clouds.

Surprisingly it's still warm.

True summer. That's what we've had this entire last week, as if God was saving the best for last.

Maybe it was this last (for me) blast of perfect cottage weather. Maybe it was the crazy, best in 40 years blueberries. Or the arrival on Monday of a small and charming chipmunk who graced me with her trust and came got her peanuts off my lap by Tuesday.

Maybe it was just some quiet turning of my soul when I wasn't really paying attention.

Whatever it was, whenever it was, I'm ready to come home. Ready.

Not that I want to leave. Please understand. This place is so fresh and quiet and warm and safe and away and abundant and deep and sweet and everything my soul was created to long for, that I never want to leave. Ever. Doesn't matter who or what I have waiting for me that I will thoroughly enjoy when I get back, while I'm here, I am fully here. Fully. I miss the water the most.

But somewhere in the moments of receiving, I received what I needed to remember that no matter where I am, where I actually live is in God. Not just WITH Him but IN Him.

"He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High....if you make the Most High your dwelling...". Psalm 91:1,10

God is my home, my house. Where I live

And if that's the case, a deep security is mine for the having. Freedom and peace can be mine, even when all chaos is breaking loose around me - arrows by day and pestilence by night, as the psalmist describes.

I knew this already before I got here. But I love that my gentle Father (Prabada, in Thai) took me aside for a while to remind me. And restore me, here by the still waters. But that's another psalm.

This is my 40th year coming to this place. Not a surprise, perhaps, since God often counts in 40s, that this was a year that I needed it this much.

We leave tomorrow after supper, provided the power comes back on. Otherwise we might leave sooner, heeding the call of a nice hot shower.

Sunday at Highview will be sweet.
Sent from my BlackBerry device on the Rogers Wireless Network