Sunday, February 1, 2015

when it's time to come home

This weekend someone I love came home.
She's been gone for quite awhile.
The conditions she's been living in the past couple of months have been harsh.


She's felt fear
and anxiety
and anger
and the bitter cold of a life in the wild, unprotected world,
with her wild, unprotected heart.
She's also felt a whole other host of emotions I wouldn't understand and she may not be able to explain.

Under those conditions she hasn't met defeat, but victory.
She hasn't crumbled, she's been fortified.
She hasn't lost herself to darkness, but found light.
She hasn't given up, she's grown up.

They say a brilliant diamond is formed when a piece of dull and unimpressive carbon undergoes significant pressure.  Maybe a brilliant life is formed just that way too.

When home hasn't been all it should have been - or could have been - we leave it a little bit broken...sometimes a lot broken.  And then after a hard, pressing season away we return.  For some it is only hours away and for others, it is years.  In our absence home may not have changed, but we have.  And that is enough.

I wasn't there to meet her when she got of the plane.  I left a giant colorful message hanging across the windows until I can see her face-to-face and hug her tight.

Welcome Home.

It's not just a sentiment, you know.
It's a suggestion of how you might take that giant step back.  Back to the place you left when you were not quite okay
the place that held some hurts
the place that couldn't let you heal
the place that will never be perfect.

Could you find it in your heart to say to that place - welcome.

Because home isn't just a place it's a people...it's your people - for better or for worse.  And when we can welcome it, welcome them, back into our life the light begins to reflect from all our new angles cut from grace.
Brilliance.