So my pastor said something interesting this morning-he said that we are all people trying to find our way home. Technically, we are all homeless. He couldn't have been more right, at least not from my perspective. I am constantly feeling homeless. But the fact is that we can never feel like we are completely home if we are seeking out only physical places. The point of his sermon was that our real home can only be found in the arms of Jesus. It is only in him that we have a true home. I found some real comfort in his words, for as I get older, I feel like life becomes more and more of a strong current beneath my feet. Circumstances are constantly shifting, and I am forever seeking some safe solid rock to rest on. There really is no stronger foundation than the Jesus, no greater purpose than His.

Hope

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune--without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

-Emily Dickinson