The Way Home

Then Jesus declared, “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never go hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.”

—John 6:35

 

I call it a funk—this melancholy mood, this heavy heart I’ve been carrying around all week. This week after Easter, after all my family members have returned to their homes and schedules have returned to normal. Except nothing has felt normal to me. Nothing has felt like home.

 

“Please pray for me,” I asked my friends. And I prayed for myself, Why art thou cast down, O my soul? and why art thou disquieted in me? hope thou in God (Psalm 42:5).

The rain last night, along with the fatigue from the work week, only seemed to amplify my mood. By eight o’clock, I decided the bed was the best place for me and pulled the covers to my chin—but I couldn’t cover the ache in my heart.

Jesus, help me.

This morning sunny skies replaced rain clouds, and I couldn’t help but notice. Birds announced a new day. And I decided a new day deserved a fresh outlook.

I slipped on sneakers and headed in the direction of my parents’ home, just a stone’s throw away. Gravel crunched beneath my feet as I sideswiped puddles along the lane lined with stately pines. A gentle breeze played with my hair and brought with it a scent that could only mean one thing—Mom’s home cooking.

The door was open, and my suspicion was confirmed in just a few steps from the screened-in porch boasting beautiful begonias. There in the sunny yellow kitchen Mom was stirring up a pot of turkey vegetable soup. She turned and greeted me with a warm smile and motioned toward the table, “Have a seat.”

Dad joined us and we chatted about the weather and family and babies on the way. And then the phone rang. Dad was summoned to help with corralling a cow that had broken free from the pasture. Within seconds, he grabbed his cap and truck keys and was out the door, Mom’s voice trailing behind him, “Be careful!”

The concern in her voice turned our conversation to more serious things—like getting a cell phone for Dad, but she wasn’t convinced.

A flutter at the window drew our attention. “A hummingbird!” Mom exclaimed—and then explained that she’d just hung out the feeder this week. She marveled at how the hummingbirds return about the same time each year.

I continued to peer out the window and noticed her weed-less flower bed, unlike mine. “I see you’ve been working in your flower bed. And your lilac is blooming—and the irises.” Then a flash of red caught my eye. “You get so many pretty birds here!”

“You should put some flowerpots on your deck,” she suggested, “Maybe that would draw the birds to your place.”

“But I have three cats that would scare them away.”

She nodded, as if she understood my dilemma.

“I have to have my flowerpots on my porch. I hope heaven has a porch!”

“Me, too!” I laughed.

We noticed the clock. Dad had not returned.

“Maybe I should drive to the barnyard,” Mom said.

“Well, I need to head home anyway. I’ll call you if I see him.” I suggested, since I’d pass by on my way.

I glanced over as I rounded the bend, but I didn’t see Dad’s white truck.

I continued toward my house, and then a familiar flash of white crested the hill. I stood at the end of my driveway till he stopped his truck in front of me, window down.

“Did you get the cow in?”

“Yup.”

“So how’d you do it? Did you draw him in with the chop?”

He nodded and explained how he opened the gate and left the chop right inside. With little guidance, the cow made his way home through the open gate.

I was happy to hear the news. I was happy.

And I couldn’t help but think of God and how He has left the gate open for us and how He draws us in (John 6:44). Jesus is that gate (John 10:9). And if we choose to enter through the gate, we will find pasture—nourishment. Jesus. Jesus is the bread of life (John 6:35) that satisfies every hungry, aching heart—including mine.

Jesus. Jesus was the salve for my melancholy mood. Jesus brought me home. He is the way (John 14:6).

Dear Father, thank You for reminding me that home really is in my heart and for providing the nourishment for my weary soul. Thank You for drawing me in like the aroma of home cooking—and for hanging out the feeder for my return and setting out the chop when I stray. Amen. 

Life gets tough and times get hard

And it's hard to find the truth in all the lies

If you're tired of wondering why you're heart isn't healing

And nothing feels like home ‘cause you're lost and alone

Just screaming at the sky

 

When you don't know what to say

Just say Jesus

 

—7eventh Time Down, Just Say Jesus