We have moved home.
The relief is palpable. It had been just over six months, waiting for repairs to be done while we lived in other places.
Home.
It will be a while before we are completely settled in, but the kitchen is unpacked and fully functional. We’re sleeping in our own bed, in our own bedroom, and at this moment, that is enough.
We breathe deeply.
We are home.
Today, a small bit of Scripture captures me.
“Afterward Jesus went up on a mountain and called out the ones he wanted to go with him. And they came to him.” - Mark 3:13, Bible
I imagine that moment, Jesus’ invitation, their acceptance. But more than that, I imagine the memory, years later.
These ones, who were called to follow Jesus … who chose to respond … who were then sent to offer the message of Jesus, the life of Jesus to others. Did they, in later times of uncertainty or pain or frustration, cast their minds back to that moment when Jesus called them and they responded?
I do.
When emails overflow. When budgets are strained. When decisions must be made, whether I feel certain or not. When people need more than I have to offer.
When I wake up in the morning, determined to get it all done, but by evening resign myself to the fact that I couldn’t, not today, though Lord knows I tried.
In those moments, I cast my own mind back. To when Jesus called me. And I responded. I had no idea what that would look like, and oof, I wryly chuckle sometimes at what I didn’t know.
Nevertheless, I live with the assumption that I belong to Jesus, and it is God who guides my path.
And then I breathe deeply and settle in.
For I am home.