It was lovely. My pastor prayed for my grandfather, and told him of the depth of God's love for him.
People told me that they missed me.
They missed me?
you mean even though I might think differently about this topic, and even though I ...and ????
you miss me?
I truly think that my eyes started welling up with tears when everyone came up to hug me and tell me that noticed that I was gone.
It meant something.
We ate a meal together. There was a huge smorgaboard of food in the back, and I marveled at the love that was poured out into those dishes.
If only the world could know such a love.
I rail a lot against denominationsim,.. a rail a lot against instutionalized churches..
But the one truth that I have found is that where we are loved, is where our home is..
Our home is the place where we are made to feel welcome and the place where we are accepted unconditionally.
When we have found a people that accepts us with arms wide open..that is our home..That is what most resembles Jesus.
It may not look like a building.. It may simply look like family welcoming you with open arms, no matter where you have been, what you have done, or what differences you may have..
home is where you are loved.