to be home
Yes, I have been blessed to call many places home . . . and yet something in me knows they are not home—I merely call them such, because they remind me of the place where my soul was born. They are like a letter from a beloved—it is something that brings his face to mind and heart, but he himself remains afar.
I am a stranger and a sojourner in this world, thrust onto a plane that humanity was not originally intended to walk, and my innate memory of Home will not let me forget this. I know I belong where the Lord and I may walk side by side, hand in hand. Here, I am alienated from His touch. Yes, I am lonely for what should be.
Sometimes, even when I return to the most familiar place on earth, the place where my family lives, I feel as if I am floating above reality, unable to truly absorb what I am touching, seeing, hearing. I want to to enter fully into reality, to appreciate fully every moment. But if I could, I know I would become attached to finite realities. Yes, we were created to live fully, but in our fallen state, life on earth is partial delights, partial dreams, partial existence.
But these partialities cannot end in misery. Even though our flesh may be dying, God desires that, within ourselves, we know life in abundance. He asks us to be drawn deeply into the partialities, into the beauty, truth, and goodness found in creation (be this the family farm or my family themselves), not because they will fulfill us, but because hidden within them we find their origin: Christ in His fullness.
Yes, there are moments when the loneliness lifts—just enough to warm an aching soul. And I realize, it isn’t about where I am, but who I’m with. Yes, I belong with Him . . .