I woke up with a crusty eye so I’m forced to wear my wonky, broken glasses all day.
I look so stupid. (But I like to pretend that my husband thinks my white-trash ways are quirky and adorable. So, in a strange twist, this whole crusty eye thing is giving me an imaginary boost in self-esteem.)
My eye is all weepy and gunky and nasty – but I honestly don’t care.
My arm could be dangling by a thread and I wouldn’t care.
Actually, I’m ecstatic.
Whatever the happiest word for “happy” is? I’m that.
My son is coming home.
By tomorrow night, he’ll be sleeping in his own bed.
*squeals* I can’t wait!!!
Today, my crusty eye and I are making preparations; cleaning his room, adding fresh sheets, dusting off his desk.
I’ve been working all morning and my heart hasn’t stopped beating to the tune of a very happy song. I’m overjoyed at the thought of my child coming home.
I know, I know… he’s only been gone 2 months. And it’s not like he left in an angry huff, or something. I knew he was leaving and understood he would return.
But there’s something about being reunited.
Something about being together, then being apart, and then being together again…
Maybe it has a little something to do with sending your most Beloved creation into the world and hoping against hope that it will come back to you after you’ve relinquished control.
So my heart sings.
I prepare a place.
My son is coming Home.
And can’t help but wonder ~ if my twisted heart and crooked soul can feel this much Joy at the happy reunion of a son to his mother ~ How great must be the Joy of our Father when we come back to Him…
That He has happily prepared a place for every one of us, and that His heart beats with Joy at the thought of our return is enough to bring a tear to my crusty eye.
Doors open. Arms wide…. Welcome Home.