Seems like just about every time I’m out in the truck, whether it has been a morning’s work at the mission or a long hot day’s visit across the river, when I see the group of kolongo palm trees just ahead at the turn of the road, a peace settles over me. When I see those trees, I know just around the corner is the green gate and I’m home. Home. Home really is where the heart is. Home to me is where I can be myself and know that I’m still loved. I can blurt out my frustrations or laugh out loud at some silly goof from my day and my sweet husband will listen and take the heat or the joy and still love me and pray with me and choose to be by my side.
I have a lovely charm bracelet that my kids have contributed to, and one of the charms is a tiny house with a heart in the window. When I look at that little house, I am reassured that even though living might have been tough with separations and our houses may have been here, there and everywhere, my kids still tell me that they trust in a heart home with me, wherever that may be. That, to this mother’s heart, is a huge gift. But where is my true heart home? I have the same sense of the kolongo palm trees telling me I’m home, of feeling that deep peace when I come round a corner and see evidence of God’s love and forgiveness. It may be in quiet times reading the Word, it may be in a crying, frustrated and desperate prayer, it may be in the beauty of a lily, or it may be in the smile and hug of a friend. God’s loving grace in my life provides me with a solid never failing heart home. May His name be praised!