We have all heard it said that home is where the heart is. Yes, it’s cliche and most of us don’t really put a lot of thought into the most basic phrases, but this phrase has been on my heart a lot this last month.

Today was the fourth week of me encountering a new, yet familiar home. Four Sundays of worshipping in a place I once called home and a place I am calling home today. I feel like God is teaching me a lot about home and hearts and Sundays where those two things collide.

Today, though. Ugh, you guys…I committed the very worst of sins. I went to church. But I went to church with a cold. Coughing and sniffling (in my elbow, I’m not a complete heathen). It’s not like I had to serve or work. I didn’t have a specific responsibility, I just didn’t want to miss. So I went to church. With a cold. I know, I am the very worst.

But I think there were some lessons for me to learn in that. Today I learned just how much the Lord gets me. And gosh, it feels so right when you realize someone really gets you.

I felt it in the scriptures that were read and the psalms we sang. I felt it when Bruce Springsteen was quoted from the pulpit. I felt it when we stood to declare what we believed and when we kneeled to confess the ways we hadn’t measured up this week. I felt the Lord show up to meet me there with each poorly contained cough.

Home is where we feel the most comfortable. Where we can come as we are and nestle into our true selves. Though it took some time, I allowed myself to truly do that today.

God is writing something new on my heart. He is getting his hands dirty working in the muck and mire of who I can be, but my heart is ever so open to it.

I coughed a lot in service today. You need to know that because I’m sure you would have cringed a little. With every cough that tried to leak out, I tried to plan my escape for the door. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

Until a defining moment of grace. I watched an usher walk over to her purse and pull something out and walk over to me and place it in my hand. I opened to find a cough drop. I could have cried at her grace and kindness.

Not 15 minutes later, another usher walked over and handed me a cup of water. I savored every sip with a new understanding of home.

Grace has landed on my sick and broken heart and is engraving something beautiful and new. I have felt infinite amounts of joy more and more each week.

I am finding it in cups of water and hearing Hungry Heart quoted on Sunday morning. I am finding it in familiar faces and the comfort of reading each scripture so carefully in the bulletin. And I am finding it as I let some words settle into my heart and push others out onto the pages.

If home is truly where my heart is, I am watching God pave the path of many different versions of home for me and it’s really been beautiful.

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