Coming Home

This isn’t the blog I thought I was going to write.  I had planned to write yesterday looking back over 2016 for our family, but the words just wouldn’t come.  This morning, I thought I would write about what was coming up for this new year, but again the words wouldn’t come.  Then we came home, and I knew.

You see, “coming home” doesn’t mean what it once did.

We just spent the last four days up in Indiana visiting with my family, spending three nights in the house I grew up in.  We had a late Christmas celebration with my parents, siblings, and nieces and nephews.  It was great.  People got along well.  Everyone enjoyed what they received, as well as enjoying seeing the reactions to the gifts that they gave.  One would think that I would see this sort of family time as going “home”, but I don’t.  Since moving to Kentucky, going back to see family has mostly been just that.  We’ve been in Frankfort for nearly eight years.  This is my family’s home.

But when we pulled into our driveway a short time ago, I realized that I didn’t feel like I was coming home.  I suppose that makes some sense.  We are in our third house for 2016.  I can’t speak for my whole family, but I, at least, have lost my sense of “home”.  960 Inverness Road was home.  The cute little house on Bender Drive was cute.  This place on Goodman Way?  This is temporary.  This isn’t home.  I didn’t like how I felt coming into the house.  I didn’t like how I felt as I unpacked our bags.  And I didn’t like how I felt as I realized how I felt.

As I talked with Michael about a book I’ve been reading, we got into an interesting conversation about our upcoming mission work.  Then it hit me: our life together up to this point has been preparing me for what we’ll be doing, who we’ll be working with, and why.

Michael and I have been married 14 years as of December 28.  In that time, we have lived in 8 places.  We have experienced many years of not feeling “at home”.  We have been in transition almost more than we have been settled.  We know what it is like to wish we were living somewhere else.  We know what it is like to feel like we don’t belong.  We know what it is like to want to go back “home”, wherever that may be.

What is the tie-in to our mission work?  I’m not describing how we’ll feel when we move, although I fully expect to feel all of those things when we move to Spain.  No, I’m describing who we want to work with.

Michael and I have a heart for people in transition.  We have a heart for people who are maybe stopping somewhere for a while on their way to somewhere else.  When we get to Spain, we hope to eventually get engaged with three groups of people: Spaniards who have lost their faith, immigrants who are in transition, and refugees.

When I stop dwelling on missing my home, I can see what God has been doing.  I can see how He has been preparing us.  I can see how He has been using what we’ve been doing for the last several years.  I can see how He has been opening our hearts to care about people like us.  I can see how He has been paving the way for us to connect with others over common experiences.

I don’t feel “at home” here, and that’s okay.  This is a growing experience, and I’ll take it.

Peace be with you, my friends.