Heart Vacancy

Growing up my family had the privilege to take summer holidays on the road.  Two to three weeks of back seat bliss.  The suns rays reflecting through the windows of our Mercury Monarch.  Doodle crafts and I-spy filling the afternoon time.  Butterscotch candies soothing our restless souls.  Adventure filled hearts, craving and anticipating the new found State with its different road signs and architecture.  Never before seen restaurants and stores.  Giving me a travel bug at the age of six that I’ve not quite been able to shake.

My sisters and I thigh-to-thigh on the shag seat cover.  Seat belt latches hot, the only relief the muggy air streaming in beyond my father’s reflection in the rear view mirror.  Mom’s arm around his head rest.  Studying the back of her elbow, which I grew to memorize like the back of my hand.

Lunchtime relief found in a diner.  Chocolate milk and grilled cheese sandwich filled tummies.  Treasure hunting for toys beyond the cash register, just before the exit sign.  All on our family vacation.

The rubber of the tires hot and sticky to the pavement. Pulling in slow to the alleyway, covered by a hotel awning.  Sign, red, and poignant, like words of a Savior, “Vacancy” flashing, welcoming.  Beckoning. 

Suitcases fumbled and doors shut sturdy.  Exploring our new found temporary home.  Endless hallways of carpet and lighting.  Smells of chlorine and room service comfort.  Crisp white clean sheets, perfect edges and order.  Excitement looming as we soak in the brochures.  Itinerary and imagination wedded in bliss.

I wonder, like my hotels as a child, does your heart hold a vacancy sign? Because I know that it holds many rooms. 

Open ones. 

Clean ones. 

Never before used ones.

I know too, there are cluttered ones.

Messy ones. 

Ones where room service has not visited in a very long time.

I know that at times on my road trip, I had many signs for inviting Jesus in.  At times, mostly after cleaning, I flicked the switch to alert him to a welcomed stay.  Others, embarrassed by disorganization, or lack of hotel staffing, I’ve allowed him to drive by and find an alternate place for the night. 

But lately, I’ve kept my light on, vacancy sign flashing, despite letters missing, carpets being cleaned, sheets being pressed; I’ve let him in.  His visits, always moving.  Life altering.  Purifying.  Clarifying.  But more importantly, filling, beautifying, and intimate. 

Because, it’s the only way he can get to us.  To hold us.  To grip our lives.  To reform our character.  To reshape our hearts.  In this heart vacancy of ours.

Let’s keep our lights on.

~Above all else, guard your heart, for it is the wellspring of life.~  Proverbs 4:23