I have called a few places home.
I grew up in a small country town. One high school. Maybe a dozen stop lights. A handful of restaurants. Traffic jams were caused by tractors. People hold doors for you all the time. They offer to help if they see you struggling with anything. In that small town, we lived out in the county. Surrounded by fields. A enormous garden. I loved it. I lived with my mom, dad, two sisters and brother. My grandparents right next door.
Even though it was 45 minutes to the closest Walmart, it was so much simpler. Slow paced and quiet. I will likely always think of this as my hometown.
I married and now we live in a city. Seven high schools. Too many stoplights to count. Hundreds of restaurants. Traffic jams are a way of life, and the drivers aren’t courteous as they are where I grew up. Common courtesies are a rarity. We are in a townhouse. Our small yard is played in by the neighborhood kids who leave their trash all over and trample my flowers. The closest Walmart is 5 minutes away and we’re 10 minutes from 2 others. Less if you catch the lights just right.
But my family is here, and it is home now, though I would love to live in the country again. You see, my home on earth is where my family is. My husband and littles make a place, wherever it may be, home.
God has planted us here for a reason. Maybe it is to be Jesus to those unkind or burdened people, brightening their day with a smile. Maybe it is to be Jesus to those kids. Inviting them to play in the yard, welcoming them and giving them a safe place to play.
Ultimately, as a follower of Christ, my home is not on this earth.
“Do not let your hearts be troubled. You believe in God; believe also in me. My Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you? ”
One day, heaven will be my home.
I can not wait.