I got to see my parents this weekend. It wasn’t for long at all…maybe a hour tops. They were back in NC for a marriage retreat that they had paid for before they moved back to Texas. They really wanted to be at the retreat so they came back. After it was over I drove and met them before they had to get back on the road.

It was the most wonderful and the hardest hour of my life.

There is nothing more comforting or welcoming or safe than being wrapped up in my parents arms. I didn’t have to be strong or brave. I didn’t have to worry about bills or deadlines or errands. I got to be their little girl again. And as it has become my new MO, I cried like a baby.

And it was just what I needed.

I realized two things though. First, home really is where your heart is. Corny I know, but it doesn't matter where my parents live, how big of a house anyone has, what jobs we have, home is being with my family, in my parents arms. Even if it was just for a moment, my heart sighed. I was safe, protected, and at rest. Second, as wonderfully great as it was to see my parents, it made me realize, again, how much God loves me. In that moment of having to say goodbye to them again, for the second time in as many months actually, I understood heartache. The separation felt like it was going to be my demise. My separation from my parents was due to life...jobs, callings, responsibilities. Jesus' separation from His Father was through no fault of His own.

He had done nothing, but obey, love, and cherish others. In that moment, as He hung on the cross, He wanted to be with God, He wanted to not be alone. But He willingly took on that loneliness and pain so that I wouldn't have live with that I wouldn't have to bear that. That's some seriously intense love.