For years I walked a road that seemed to be dead end. Feeling like a stranger, in a foreign land, my heart longed for a home. In this world I never felt like I belonged. For this reason I felt at home with the outcasts, or the odd ones you might say. Those that did not fit into the norm, felt like family to me, because I could relate to them. As I was growing up I really felt at home with these special ones that did not mind that I suffered from a compulsive creative disorder. As a youngster this set me apart as an oddball by US cultural standards. I am thankful today that the Lord helped me to understand that what the very thing that was thought to be my disorder was something of a divine spark that I was created for the purpose of showing the world what it's creator is like.
It was not until 1986, which was my 19th year on this planet, that I came to know Christ. His presence is home to me. With him is where I belong. My home is where ever he is. which is way cool, because he is everywhere. So now I am living in a state being at home everywhere.
The only time that I feel out of place is when I do wrong before Jesus. My sin separates me from the the very place that I call home , and that is in his bosom. I fall, and fail all the time, but each time I go to him to be forgiven once more, and to receive the strength that I need to be stay free so I can feel at home with the God that I love. Home is where the heart is and my heart is with Jesus.