‘welcome home’

‘welcome home’

A strange and very common phrase I keep hearing. To be honest I don’t believe it. Not in a ‘wow I can’t believe I’m home!’ sort of way. More in a way I don’t feel America.. Ohio.. Lebanon.. my parents house is truly my ‘home.’ 

I’ve been wandering this beautiful world for the last 11 months. I’ve called 11 countries home. I’ve called 11 communities, friends and fellow believers home. I’ve traveled with the same 30+ people that became my constant, my community and my family. I’ve gone through growing pains with them and celebrated milestones and miracles together. I’ve lived out of a backpack, I’ve worn the same clothes, slept in the same sleeping bag, and found the joy in simplicity of calling that pack my home. 

You see, my heart hasn’t found just any home. It’s found almost a dozen homes that I ache for. I still yearn to hear the laugh of Rosalinda at the home for disabled adults in Honduras. Or the many hostels I called home in Vietnam and  Cambodia loving on and evangelizing to the workers. I miss the smell of the church in Serbia I lived in and called home and praised God for hot water. I ache thinking of my Ugandan family singing my favorite worship songs in the church I called home.  

Life has been oh so different this past year and for that I’m grateful. God has changed so many things in my heart and the way that I view this world. Home being number one. I don’t need a house or a place to feel the presence of the living God of the universe. I don’t need things or people to bring me closer to the Holy Spirit. He lives inside me and has been the one with me on this journey. He’s the one that I can rest knowing he knows my experiences and trials and troubles. He’s the one calming my racing mind when I’m feeling I’m living 11 different lives at once. He’s the one giving me grace for all the excess and consumerism that makes up American culture. He’s the one keeping the memories alive I’m scared are quickly fading. He’s the one I run to when I wake up and ache to be back in Africa. 

He is my home. 

Transition has been hard. Entering into a life that was once mine but isn’t anymore is strange. Wearing clothes I once wore lifetimes ago is even stranger. I feel like something just doesn’t quite fit and probably never will. And I’m growing in my contentment over that. I’m not called to be comfortable on this side of the kingdom. God calls us to be uncomfortable- to be bold in His Name. And I plan to keep that up until I hear from Him ‘welcome home.’