Home
A place where you can hang your hat,
And say “Good morning” to your cat,
To drink your coffee in pajamas,
Or raise a herd of lovely llamas.
A place where you can be a king,
Or queen, if that’s your hankering.
A place where you can be a fool,
Or spend some time beside the pool.
A place where you can get some rest,
A place to be your very best.
A place where you’re so much encouraged,
A place where you can freely flourish.
A place of many smells and voices,
A place where you have made some choices.
A place where people tend to greet you,
And say that they are glad to see you.
Or maybe you can be your worst;
Growl at the dog, and sadly, curse.
You wake up grumpy; you’re a bear,
But still the people love you there.
You say, it’s not at all like that?
Your home, does it these senses lack?
No domicile is truly perfect;
In fact, at home, you feel a reject.
Our real home’s in heaven above,
A place of everlasting love.
And there, you’ll meet with all your dreams,
You’ll live by living, flowing streams.
God has for you a mansion great,
With rooms that for your soul await.
And good or bad, your home on earth?
For that new home, to wait it’s worth.
It Hurts to Love
The cross of Christ is a paradox. How can something so painful be good, and even holy? Perhaps the more you love others, the more you will suffer. Yes, there will be times of joy, but let’s face it: often, it hurts to love.
Because you cared about others, but often they misunderstood you, or they felt threatened by your love, you suffered. Or, you suffered when you saw your loved one suffering. Or, you see their bad choices, but cannot make them change. Then you must wait and pray and trust that God may change their hearts.
Category:
Commentary
Tagged with: