Going Home

As I’m sitting here on an airplane heading south I’m contemplating the idea of “going home.” It’s an idea I’ve wrestled with for the past year, and I’ve come to realize that it’s a relative thing. Going home. What makes home home? Is it the location where you reside? Is it the presence of those you love? Is it things that are familiar? Is it “where the heart is.” Because right now I’m heading home, as in the place that I’ve been living for the past year and a half, but it’s not home. To me if it were home my family would be waiting to pick me up. Sarah or Kate would be there physically to talk to and unwind with at any hour even late into the night. It would be mountains rising up to greet me. My puppy would be there at the very least. Yet none of these will be true tonight. So what am I doing? Why don’t I pack my things tonight and relocate? It’s tempting to be sure. Why am I going back?

                I’m reminded of the words from FFH’s song “Follow Love.” They’ve  been so characteristic of my life:

“I’ve got a heart that’s full of dreams and a little bit of crazy.

I can feel it pulling me to somewhere I have never been.

I’m packing up and leaving home to travel into the great unknown…

So here’s goodbye. Here’s so long. I must go and follow Love.”

As I’ve made the conscious, crazy choice to follow Love, to follow God, no matter the cost.  In doing so I have had to give up some things. One is an emotional connection to home.  What makes it home is the fact that this is where God called me and the fact that this is where I’m to remain until further notice, despite lack of family, friends, or whatever. Just because I might not feel the emotional connection to this place doesn’t mean this isn’t where I’m supposed to be…for now.