One thing have I asked of the Lord, that will I seek after; that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life. — Psalm 27:4
I came because the opportunity was offered. Supposedly the crucifixion window caught the last rays of daylight, so 6:00 PM seemed a good time. I found a row all my own and settled in with my journal, in case I needed to write, and my Bible, after all I was coming to church.
Two deep breaths. I focused on a thankful list as the appropriate start to 45 minutes of private worship. Surprisingly with each notation came wet eyes.
I had not been in this place—the house of God—since March. These surroundings meant so much. To a young single they were a welcome place close to my apartment. David and I melded a Presbyterian/Baptist marriage here. Three children grew from babies to adults sheltered by these walls. I found ways to serve and in return was served myself. A wedding was blessed and after fifty-four years a funeral was conducted. All right here.
I had processed these aisles singing, "Inside these walls, freedom comes. Hallelujah!"
Others had built this to be His dwelling place on this spot of Houston, and I was reaping their commitment. In stillness my inner being received the word, "Welcome home."
