Someday I will fall on my face in the presence of my savior.
I wonder what words I will say, what songs my soul will sing, and how my feet will dance (hopefully my dancing skills will have slightly improved).
I’m not sure what reaction is worthy of the One who breathed the life into my lungs. I wonder if I will have the slightest clue in that moment.
I imagine that my tired soul will feel tired no longer.
My heart will bear no scars. My past no shame. I will thirst no more.
I imagine that still, small voice now filling every corner and crevice of the throne room. I imagine His words saturated in love, calling my name as it was always meant to be spoken. As though I’ve heard it a million times yet never like this. The same voice that called me the very first time now saying:
“Look up child. At last, you are home.”
I imagine my breath will catch at the sight of Him, at the sound of His voice, and at the touch of His nail-pierced hands.
I imagine I will know what it was all for and be glad for it.
I imagine, and for now, that’s all I can do.
But someday, I will lock eyes with the One who designed the universe, and my soul will finally know what it feels like to be home.