My Father's House

Growing up, there were a lot of variables. We moved a few times. Friends came and went. My father's mood was terribly unpredictable in those days.  In school over the years, a lot of people died. And when I was older, my mom and I moved out on our own when she and my father divorced. There weren't too many things I could count on staying the same back then. But God blessed me with one thing that always stayed the same. There was always one place I could go for unchanging love. My Grandma and Granddaddy's house always felt like home.

They bought the modest three bedroom, two bath house a few years after moving to Columbia in the '40's and they lived there for the rest of their lives. I loved that house. There were lots of pictures of us on the walls, and for as long as I ever remember, those pictures never moved. Everything had its place there, and I found such comfort in that. The towels were always the same, well used and worn, and I loved them. My grandma cooked countless delectable meals in that kitchen on her flat top stove. There was a nice, big back yard with patio, a sandbox, and a carpentry shop, where my granddaddy kept all his tools wonderfully organized and in perfect working condition. He even let my brother and me play with the scraps of wood and old hammers and nails when we were old enough. I think as a child, that was my favorite place in the whole wide world.

My grandmother died first in 1991. My grandfather went on to live almost ten more years, learning in those last years how to live abundantly and freely in Christ like never before. In 2001, when he passed away, it brought our whole little family to its knees. After the funeral and all the busyness that came with it, my mom and uncle prepared the house for the woman who had bought it only two weeks after it went on the market. My last visit to that wonderful little house was one of the most difficult moments of my life to date. Standing in the back bedroom where I had spent so many peaceful and happy nights, I could hardly bear knowing that I would never sleep there again. The sound of my weeping echoed through the empty house. I still remember the sound.

Even now, almost ten years later, I have grieved over, not just the loss of my grandparents, but that wonderful house that was my home. The few times I've driven by only brought more sorrow, as the new owner has let weeds overtake the yard and piled the carport high with junk. I didn't realize how much sadness I still carried around over that until God touched my heart recently in a small group meeting. Here's what I learned.

The preacher on the DVD lesson read John 14:2.  Jesus said, "In my Father's house there are many rooms...I am going there to prepare a place for you." When he read this scripture, he told us about how angry he had been at his own parents when they sold their house to downsize in their later years. He said it took him a whole year to get over that, because he had so loved the house he grew up in. He had loved his father's house just as I had loved my grandparents' house.

As Jesus' promise settled in my heart, I had a revelation that set me free from my grief. I now understand that God gave me the wonderful experience of my grandfather's house only as a sneak peek of what heaven will be like. The comfort and safety and joy I found there was only a preview of my Heavenly Father's house, the one Jesus is preparing for me right this very moment. Where I used to feel deep loss when driving by that house, I now find excitement and joy, because the memory of being there now points me toward heaven. What a blessing and a priceless gift God gave me in my grandparents' house! And what blessing I find there still! Because even though they don't live there anymore, God is still on His throne in heaven, and that will never, ever change.

Father, thank You for taking the time to teach me that everything I love so dearly on this earth points to You. Thank You for my grandparents, who loved me with Your heart. And thank You that they will be there when I finally arrive at my real Home.

In His steadfast love,
Amy


copyright 2010, Amy Wallace