Where I Belong

May 7: Three gifts about Home

1. Our front door that looks out on the sunrise

2. The farming country, with the sun rising on red barns

3. Falling asleep with the window open and hearing the night alive with sounds

While waiting for breakfast I glance out the window. To the far left, just beyond sight, the sun baths the world warm. Impulsively, I sprint out of the room and down our long entrance hallway. I come to a halt at the door; the whiteness of the walls and door and ceiling all glowing in the direct sunlight makes the place feel surreal. Built in blinds obstruct my view a little so I pull down on the side slider and the blinds whizz up. The fresh sun rising over the tree tops nearly blinds me. I gaze upwards at the blue, blue sky and the clouds that look to threaten another grey day. But for now, I bask in the light of the sun.

Driving to Little Sister’s school to drop her off, I watch the dramatic stage being set all around me. Little Sister, still feeling sick and coughing, put off taking the tiny red pill and cap full of orange goo for as long as possible. So long, that she couldn’t make the bus. That meant Mom was driving her. And whenever Mom drives her, I come along. Don’t ask me why, I’m not even 100% sure myself, only that whenever there’s a chance to get out of the house and enjoy a car ride – no matter how short it will be – I’m game. Today, I’m especially glad I came. The dark sky stands dramatic against trees and buildings. The golden sun, made richer by the darkening skies, still shines through on the other side of the sky. The farm buildings are lit up fiery red, and the fields are rich browns and golds. The trees, still bare from the winter, are also plunged into this glorious golden bath. And behind it all is a moody, deep blue darkness gathering. Whenever the weather stands in such stark contrast to itself, I feel as if the whole world is on the edge of something; as if the stage is set dramatically and this is the moment before the storm is unleashed; before the villain is vanquished.

 

Coming home this evening from youth group, Mom and I watched the skies as they rumbled and burst with sparks. The towering clouds looked like castles and hidden realms of mystery as the lightning illuminated the architecture of the skies. Earlier, before the water had been poured down on us, forcing us all inside, we had watched a large cloud reaching further and further to blot out the sky. It was mentioned that it looked like the mushroom cloud of a nuclear bomb. Now, I curl up under my blankets for the night, with the lightning far away, and the rain long since stopped. The window is open and a cool breeze drifts in softly. The air is washed clean by the rain, and the atmosphere is made richer by the lightning. Outside, frogs croak loudly, along with several other chirps and calls that I can’t place. I lay still and listen; it’s like an orchestra. And it sounds like home.