News from Home

When I am at school, my letters and posts frequently acquire the tone of a soldier somewhere on the front. Thus: "Mama, I'm dreaming of the candles in the window, and your cooking. Mama, tell everybody that I'll be home soon. Not so long now, and I'll stop aching for you all. Tell everybody..."

But I have been granted leave from the front; leave from the heart and mind and soul ache of being stretched almost beyond endurance--for the Lord never fails to grow me in dependence upon him through the course of each semester. Now, here, with steam upon the windowpanes because it is so very warm and wet during a Maryland summer, I am utterly at rest in our cool, spacious house. I have spent the afternoon in the library, sewing and watching Anne of Green Gables with Burgee, who has a cold.

The fragrance of home envelopes me; a thousand small things make me smile--moments which pierce my heart with sweetness. Mama tickling Davy's tummy, because he always gives his funny Doughboy chuckle when she does. Burgee's seaglass-green eyes, just beginning to grow deep with womanhood, but still clear and unhurt. Darling, how can I ever bear to let you meet with the dark world? Charity's sunglasses--the way she likes to perch them above her dear fluff of a short ponytail. The way she teases me and laughs with me like the College Girl which she has just become. Buying ribbons and ribbon-roses and white eyelet with Charity. Moments of comradeship with Mama, as women and teachers and members of Tapestry Development... or just as mother and daughter sharing delight in Pride and Prejudice.

Daddy, handsome in a black shirt. Nathan, handling his new puppy with such gentle skill, and his warehouse with such efficient excellence. Mike and Jessica, so young and happy together, and withal so upright before God, that they seem too bright to look at. Danya's blue-gray eyes, his voice speaking to the Lord in morning prayer at the office. Oh, morning prayer! Laura and Danya and I, sharing troubles and seeking grace, caring for one another throughout the day. Sam tearing across the office floor to keep up with Nathan. Garret and Courtney packaging up Tapestry orders to be sent all over the country, to serve mothers in educating their children for God, while we design tests and magazines and graphics to help them further. The awe of serving in that way. The need of God in it. The jokes and laughter, the quotes and counterquotes! The music. The music we make ourselves, singing together.

And when work is over, the meeting again over dinner, and sometimes wine in chilled glasses, and sometimes croquet tournaments, and sometimes an hour of quiet conversation beneath the pavilion on our deck, with an evening breeze, an aura, caressing the morning glory vines. Grandpa's stories about his ministry at the prison, and Grandma's latest meeting with a foreigner at Giant, or Starbucks, or McDonalds, or even the Post Office! Good books, old and beautiful books who whisper, "Oh, you are home! I've missed you, little girl. Come, come lose yourself with me once more!"

Omnis candidissimae formae est... It is all of the most white and pure form. Suffuse with light these happy golden days, and let me forget that I was ever sorrowful or lonely. Let me forget my heartaches. Is this not what God does? He gives us such gladness that all our former pain seems as trivial as cuts from a blade of grass. And why should he so bless us, who are but grass indeed?

The book I am reading, Discipline of Grace, quotes a pastor from former centuries who said that the worst sin we can commit against God is to disbelieve his love for us. I do not know if this is true, but it rings true to me, perhaps because I spent so many years sinning in that way. But by grace, it has come to seem to my soul that each separate ray of sunlight is a word of love, and every color a kiss, and God is light, and I cannot live without light.

And I need never again live without light, because of news from Heaven. Is that not proof enough of love?

I'm home... and I'm going home. To him!