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A poem about God's house with many rooms

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After John 14:1-14
The goal of my life
might be a small room
tacked upon Your house, O God—
a place where we’d all fit—
crowded, but oh, so happy—
the type of living arrangement
that's all pure gift.
Someplace in the woods—
thick with creation's chatter.
O, how I long
to be with you there.
I won’t be afraid anymore.
I’ll soak in endless courage.
I'll be home.
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