My Real Home

 

I was folding white clothes this morning and folded a kitchen towel that had a cute little decoration on it.  It was a picture of a mother duck with her two little ducklings beside her.  But the saying took on new meaning for me.  It said, “Home is where your mom is,” and my mother is in heaven.  I remember reading of an old missionary couple coming back to America, broken and weary after years of service in Africa.  When their boat docked in New York Harbor, a band was playing and a sign read, “Welcome Home, Mr. President”.  Theodore Roosevelt had been on their ship and was returning from a safari in Africa.  The crowd of people at the wharf were welcoming the president home.  But as the old couple disembarked, no band was playing for them, and no one was there to greet them.  They were disappointed as they walked down the gangplank unnoticed.  They passed the cheering crowd, who were not cheering for them.  But as they stepped ashore, the dear Lord seemed to speak to them saying, “Take heart, child, you’re not home yet.”  And when the old couple eventually passed into eternity and were “welcomed home” in heaven, and great was their welcoming committee!  David said in Psalm 116:15, “Precious in the sight of the LORD is the death of his saints.”  I am looking forward to seeing my mother again when I reach my real home.