Home for a wandering sheep

The past day or two, God repeatedly keeps telling me “Where God is, is home.”  

I’ve also been reminded over the course of these days that I’m a sheep.  

The image comes to mind of a little lamb, wandering around through pastures. The hills around me are huge, and I’m so fragile. 

I keep longing for my home. I keep asking the shepherd to bring me home, to bring me to a place where I can rest. 

But then God reminds me that where my God is, is my home.  He gives me a picture of a tender shepherd picking up this lost sheep, and holding it close to his heart.

Home is not where we are or a destination we’re trying to get to. Home is my journey with my shepherd and rest is found, not in a place, but in his arms. Rest is found when my little legs stop moving and my ears listen to his heartbeat.

 God tells me that home is being carried by my shepherd.