OK, are you ready? Give me your best five minutes for the prompt:
Where my children lay there heads at night to sleep.
A place that I have made on my own with God, my true provider. A place that I would love to share with a man God has made for me.
Sometimes, I feel like maybe its not really a home. Maybe its just a house, a rent house at that, where we collect our stuff.
If it is a HOME, what makes it that way?
What about yelling, cussing, ugliness, crying, despair, silent tears hidden from my children to protect their home. Is it really a home even with these?
A house, a dog, a wife, a husband, kids, a white picket fence and bright red door? Is this a home?
What about the home deep inside my heart where Jesus lives? If that is the Holy Spirit's home/house/temple, what are the uglys that He must endure just to claim me as His own?