Something About Home

We just returned from a wonderful, week-long vacation.  It was great and awesome and ridiculously refreshing to spend seven days with the people who know me best. Seven days on the beach.  Seven days with my family.  Seven days of great food. (Because, it is the Schlects, after all)  Seven days that absolutely made this summer.   I'll throw some pictures up here once I get them all organized.  It was a wonderful, wonderful week.

And yet, there's just something about coming back home.  The place where familiar smells hit me like a wave when I walk through the door.  The place I can navigate blindfolded. The way everything is where it should be, the way the soap lathers and cleans just right (yes, I am an Irish Spring enthusiast), the way there's just enough room in the produce drawer of my fridge, the way the knives are perfectly sharpened, the familiar scent of the pillowcase, the uneven way my oven bakes on the left side, the comforting way his hand shapes to fit mine...

Our home is simple, but our home is ours.  And, for now, it is home.

While I love adventure as much as anyone else, and my wanderlust is far from satisfied, there is something incredibly comforting in the familiar.  It just fits.

Today, I am thankful for this familiar bed, for this familiar kitchen, for his familiar arms, and for His familiar faithfulness.



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