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Lord, through all the generations you have been our home!  ... For you, a thousand years are as a passing day, as brief as a few night hours.  You sweep people away like dreams that disappear.  Psalm 90: 1 & 5

A near 20 dwellings have called themselves home to me.   Including the current, not-quite-home-yet home.  They call themselves home.  Do I call them home?  

Most heard many footsteps, saw shoe prints, found scattered dirt clods.  Most baked cookies, fed kids and dogs, displayed handprints.  Most washed towels, cars, dishes, patios.  Home. 

Yet for God, a few houses, in a few cities, in a couple states are as a passing day in the life of "home."  He sweeps dwellings away like dreams that disappear.  A favorite chair, a sunny window, a full bookshelf, a pillow, a willow tree, a porch swing.  A husband.  Are here today, but not one day.  

Because 

God is our home.  He is like the puppy's wagging tail, like the family photo on the wall, like the pot roast spread on the faded tablecloth.   

Homes and people are swept away.  And that is why... 

I call God home.