July in
the Southern Hemisphere: the centre of winter. Weather inhabits the great
outdoors. Indoors, a metaphor, a habitation, and a house. January is named for
Janus, god of doors, facing both old year and new; July, called after the
assassinated Julius Caesar, faces back into the former future that became the
past so quickly, and forward into the present future sliding seamlessly into
the past, every day.
Home is a
where. The body is also a habitation and a house. At home in the body opens
space for the soul, that is, where Jesus is at home when we’re at home in him. At
home with someone who knows who and where we are, more than we know ourselves. Without
our habitation, are we anywhere?
Habiting
with neighbours. A gathering, community, or company who profess to know each
other in a certain space. Walking together through the same doors of time,
however evenly or otherwise the space may intersect. At home among us is as
much on earth as it is in heaven. At least, refrain from the harms you hate yourselves,
for home is free of fear. Rest, hope, love bringing you home. A habitation in
the heart.
