Last month I was getting ready to check out of my motel after attending a national conference. I had been on the road for ten out of fourteen days and wasn’t really looking forward to heading back. Honestly, I have felt a bit homeless, but it had little to do with selling the house a year ago.

My ministry has taken me on many trips over the years, and I had always looked forward to Sue welcoming me home. She wasn’t there at the end of last month’s trip and hasn’t been since she died just before Mother’s Day two years ago. Heading to my apartment, as I was that day, I wondered if any place would ever feel like home without Sue there to welcome me.

As I pondered that thought, I concluded I might never truly feel at home again, and I was surprisingly okay with that realization. Perhaps the lyrics to an old hymn will help you understand my welcoming sense of homelessness. “This world is not my home. I’m just a passing through. My treasures are laid up somewhere beyond the blue. The angels beckon me from Heaven’s open door, and I can’t feel at home in this world anymore.”

Disease and death are powerful reminders that we, and those we know and love, have expiration dates. Shortly before Sue died, my mother said she would be willing to die if Sue could live. That was the depth of my mother’s love. Three months later Mom followed Sue home to Heaven. One day, I will as well. Mourning has given me a hope that no earthly abode can satisfy. I thank God for these two very special mothers and the impact each had on my life.

“The angels beckon me from Heaven’s open door, and I can’t feel at home in this world anymore.”

Stan Means
Elder Source Senior Ministries
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