Home is probably my favorite four-letter word. It’s right up there with love, certainly. But, home says love to me – so it kind of covers everything: home.

Whether your home is a 900 square foot apartment or a six-bedroom Tudor mansion with a three-car garage, swimming pool and tennis court, your home is special to you.

When I dream, I often dream of my first home – more than 60 years ago in a town called Oakesdale, Washington.
But I still go “home” in my dreams.

Oakesdale was a town of 474 people when I lived there in the 60’s. We lived there until my father died in 1966. I googled it the other day and the population is now 458 – rolling hills of winter wheat, and not much else.
But it was my first home.

The house was red brick. It was across the street from the school yard. And in my memories, I often visit – even though the house no longer stands. It’s been replaced by tennis courts for the school district.
That’s a snippet of how important memories of home are for each of us. Right now I wonder if you are thinking about your first home?

A few years ago we had a young couple house sit for us during a vacation. They told us they enjoyed living in our home, but they really were anxious to get back to their little apartment. That was their home. As humble as it might have been, that was where they could really be themselves. That was home.

We know we have a heavenly home, too. We consider that every moment we’re on this earth. We are preparing for that day when we head home – by the way we love and live and build a home in this life.
That’s part of David’s prayer that we read this morning.