Our home is on the market once again. We had taken it off a few months ago, thinking that with the slow economy it might be best to just content ourselves with this small condo and make do. But we’ve found it to be cramped in here. And we know that it’s only going to get smaller as we acquire more, as most are likely to do as the months become years. And so, the house is for sale once again.
Why can I not be content? Why is it that no matter how many people come to view our home each week, I still get ahead of myself by searching the real estate listings in my target area, attempting to find the one that would be “perfect” for our next residence – our first home with walls and ceilings not shared by others?
Because this isn’t my home. I am not content because my heart longs for something that will never be attainable here. And no matter the amount of improvements we make, the number of times we upgrade and move to accommodate our changing lives, I will never be able to nest and feel completely at ease with my surroundings.
Somewhere there is a home for me that is complete with a clawfoot tub and fireplace in the bathroom. It has a bright white kitchen with a cauldron and black and white tile floors. There’s also a library that soars up into the rafters above, and chandeliers in every room. But I’m not going to find that here, no matter the amount of money I possess. Because that is my dream home, and that type of dream can only be fulfilled above the clouds, in the land of far, far away.
My hope lies in the Word, and being sure of this is what can content me with the many temporary homes I’m going to have in the future. Even if our next home is the house that we will build onto for the rest of our lives, its only temporary.
Today I’m grateful for peace. Peace in the here and now – and peace in the knowledge that my heavenly home is continually being stocked with my dreams…even if they are dreams I’ve yet to realize.