Home can be as simple as breakfast

​Post divorce, one of the things I wrestled with a lot was the idea of home. Most of that came from me moving from a house to a small apartment.

For the longest time, I'd return the boys from time with me at my apartment to home.

Their home. My former home. And there was a void. A home void.

I've come to understand more than I ever did that home is not a physical dwelling.

Home is a feeling.

A sense.

I've come to understand it's possible to live in houses all your life and never find home. And it's equally possible to prepare 3 Thanksgiving morning breakfasts and share them with the people you love most and feel completely at home.

This morning, I am thankful for home.

I am reminded that God has prepared a home for me. I can get caught up imagining the streets of gold. The mansion on a hill.

But this morning I imagine the joy God will feel preparing breakfast for me, and the joy I'll feel eating it with him.

This morning I can fully imagine the joy of home.

Home.