My heavenly home

I walk for exercise each day, typically for an hour or so, and always with a water bottle in one hand and a rosary ring in the other, from which hang my three “tiny saints”- the Blessed Mother, St Francis of Assisi and St Therese of Lisieux (more about them another time). Armed with my fellow prayer warriors, I set out with purpose, talking to God openly, praying for people specifically, and keeping my eyes peeled for a glimpse of what I’ve nicknamed my “heavenly home,” which is a sprawling white house situated in the hills above Newbury Park.

The house is massive and looks so inviting. I picture elaborate parties taking place in the huge back yard that overlooks the Santa Monica Mountains. On my walks, I’m often scanning for the house, and when I see it, I think of the verse in John 14:2 where Jesus says, “In my father’s house there are many dwelling places.” I imagine for a moment what it will be like to reach my real heavenly home someday, and I smile knowing that Jesus is preparing a place specially for me.

Some days I can see the house, other days not so much. Sometimes it’s shrouded in fog, much like my own life at times. Regardless of whether I can see it or not, I know it’s there. I also know my Savior patiently awaits my arrival at my true heavenly home, where someday He will fling open the door, greet me with a smile and say, “Welcome home daughter, I’ve been waiting for you!”