Why I Like Being Home
I have spent a lovely past few days snorkeling the salty waves of Pulau Tioman with my three friends. Yet, I must confess. As much as I like traversing new lands and seas, the return trip is always equally as exciting. I like being home. In fact, I prefer it.
There is something splendid about the concept of home, particularly to one whose home oft changes state. (And now, I suppose, country.) There is also something rather magical about the colorful atmosphere of productivity that home inspires. I pity my fellow man who decidedly declares that he is wretchedly bored to remain in that seemingly grey Commonplace.
“Come with me!” I cry to him, and extend my hand in welcome gesture, “for there is much to see and much to do. For starters, we can read and write and sing and dance and look and listen and think and fix and create.”
The last is most exciting of all because it manifests itself differently in different folk. Judy-tudy bakes delectable goodness, Mommy builds a dining-room table, Pops grows a garden, Mikey edits a video, David performs a sonata, and I code a program that makes a purple ball bounce from one end of a box to the other.
These are all work, yet not exactly the burdensome work-cursed. These are a glimpse of the forthcoming work-redeemed, or what we should mean when we say rest. These rejuvenate the soul because it points toward what we were created for and what we will do forever in heaven – glorifying the ultimate Creator, in our ultimate Home.