The sun smiled broadly and chased the clouds away, leaving the sky so blue it almost hurt my eyes to look at it. For a moment, all my worries faded away as I stood in silent gratitude for this fine day. But the buzzing of a frantic bee snapped me out of my peaceful reverie. There, against the sliding door, he tried desperately to find his way back to freedom.

“You don’t belong here, little fella,” I told him as I placed a glass over him and gently slipped a piece of cardboard under it, trapping him inside. I released him at the door, happy that he could once again pollinate the spring flowers and return home.

My thoughts turned to my life—upended by the pandemic—isolating so far away from home. “When will I be able to return home where I belong?” I asked out loud.

“You are where you belong,” God said gently as the wind passed through the trees. “You are home, here in my heart, where you have been for all of time.”

Tears sprang to my eyes. I wiped them with my sleeve and nodded, emotions crowding out my voice. I sat down at the table on the deck, under the ancient oak, under the warmth of the noonday sun, and gave thanks for the home I’ve always known and loved—God’s good heart.

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