We're Not Nolands for Nothing

"For instance, we know that when these bodies of ours are taken down like tents and folded away, they will be replaced by resurrection bodies in heaven—God-made, not handmade—and we’ll never have to relocate our “tents” again. Sometimes we can hardly wait to move—and so we cry out in frustration. Compared to what’s coming, living conditions around here seem like a stopover in an unfurnished shack, and we’re tired of it! We’ve been given a glimpse of the real thing, our true home, our resurrection bodies! The Spirit of God whets our appetite by giving us a taste of what’s ahead. He puts a little of heaven in our hearts so that we’ll never settle for less."  2 Corinthians 5:1-3

    Nick named his facebook page "Nick Has Noland" to be funny, but he's right in a way.  We're not Nolands for nothing.  At one time my answer to "How do you spell it?" was to say "'No - Land'  We have no land: our ancestors were either sailors or paupers," but then I  had to explain the word "pauper" too often. Now I just say sailors, which better represents our Noland spirit anyway. 
     In American culture, waves of people move on and on and on and wave good-bye too often.  Sometimes I wonder where "home" is and get a tad misty eyed that the days of Norman Rockwell towns and 'It's a Wonderful Life" community spirit seem to have slipped into the past.  I like the idea of an Aunt Bea of Mayberry waiting for us in the old home-place that's as stable and glowing as a Thomas Kincade painting - especially during the holidays. The Waltons, poor as church mice, were the luckiest people in the world to have that two-story on a mountain named for them. 
     Then I remember, believers are all No-lands:  this world is not our home, we're citizens of another kingdom. No-land doesn't mean "No Home" but that our home can't be painted or sold.  We're blessed more than most to feel at home in Georgia, Florida, Alabama, Louisiana and Arkansas.  Together with believers from all these states our hearts have been nurtured, tested, trained, sometimes spoiled and sometimes bruised, but always loved because God's Spirit covers us like the tabernacle. 
     Today we travel back to one of our homes - Springhill, Louisiana, where Julie grew from 5 to 10 and where Nick arrived just in the nick of time to call Louisiana his birthstate.  We're heading to the town where Tom and I served with a community of go-getter loving people until our hearts were so full they felt like they would burst.  Today, we Nolands will be blessed to fellowship and feast with family. God, in His great grace, continues to allow us to live up to our name. Blessed, blessed, blessed.

Father, one day we'll sit at Your table feasting with You and Your other children and our hearts will rest at home.  For now, thank You for the glimpses You give us of that day and the hope these glimpses offer. Thank You for transcending time and space to draw us together in Your tabernacle, wherever we are. Thank You for moving and breathing in and around us so we can always reach You. Thank You for fellowship with other believers which feeds us and spurs us on to good works.
In the Name of Jesus, the Firstborn in Your family Who has gone ahead to prepare a place for us 
“Don’t let this [trouble] throw you. You trust God, don’t you? Trust me. There is plenty of room for you in my Father’s home. If that weren’t so, would I have told you that I’m on my way to get a room ready for you? And if I’m on my way to get your room ready, I’ll come back and get you so you can live where I live. And you already know the road I’m taking.” John 14:1-4