I have previously spoken of the sounds of home and how they seem to have a constant nature.  But as I thought of this past weeks experiences it occurred to me that smells have a way of also bringing us to a unique place…

Djarums, smoke and garbage.

This morning along with the sounds of daybreak, I was astounded to find familiar smells permeating the air in my room.  Smells long forgotten, burning wood and garden waste.  Outside of my room in the corner of the garden smoke billows…heaven ward, heaven bound.  Smoke…reminds me of long forgotten bonfires along the beach in Coney Island…reminders of a home long ago lost.  Reminds me of a fogato in my Abuela’s house that I seem to remember as I seem to forget.

As I sit in this strange environment coming to grips with this new reality, eerie reminders of a bygone era.  Chaos of clove cigarettes and Cuba Libres…time spent away from religion but never away from God.  My God.

An era of long misbegotten heartaches.  The smell of the fogato…positive moments.  The smell of the cloves that endlessly burn all around me seem to bring with them not quite pleasant memories.  Then I remember.  To remember.

God was there.  Is there.  Is here.  Is with me and in me.  And the place that the smells remind me of.  That place is my past.  Where I came from.  And had I stayed where I was the person that God has molded me to be.  Is molding me to be.  Will continue to work me into like clay…that person would not be.

The smell of a Djerum.  Sweet.  Sticky.  Soft.  Alluring.  My past.  Wow!

When people wonder if God exists I can safely sanely say (for me) YES.  Resoundingly YES! I have been salvaged from the ashes of the past and continue standing.  God.  My God.  Thank you.

Smells: cigarettes, car exhausts, motorcycle smoke, burning incense, burning smoke, yummy foods, spices and sugars, coffee.  Sigh.  Home.  Trust God!

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