No Home Of My Own

I talked to God one Saturday night a few weeks back.  I thanked Him for a good day among other things.  It was a good conversation. One where I accepted my place in the world. I do not feel like I accept my place often. I normally feel like I am in rebellion.

Today at a point I would have rather given up my faith. The kids could not convince me to keep it. They probably thought I was jesting. I knew in my heart that I could never stop serving my Savior. What I found most interesting about this incident was there was no specific desire that I could put my finger on.

There would be very little change in my life if I even could give it up. I would still harbor all this resentment, frustration, and painful love.

There is no home for some people except the one we are looking forward too when we die.