A few weeks after returning from the Middle East, I felt ill-at-ease.
Anxiety was trying to creep in, somewhat to my surprise. I was familiar with the feelings of sadness after leaving family so far behind, but why this? Why would returning to the comfort and predictability of home cause me anxiety?
First, of course, I simply missed my family. I had flown overseas a couple of months earlier to help my daughter, Elizabeth, and her husband as they prepared for the birth of their first child (and our first grandchild)! Elizabeth had moved from home five years ago to enter the mission field in the Middle East. She met a fellow youth minister from that region, and, wouldn’t you know, fell in love and got married. And now we were preparing for the newest member of the family to arrive.
We had reason to believe she might appear early, so I arrived three weeks before the estimated due date. As it turned out, she was five days late! But in those first few weeks, we cleaned, we cooked, we washed, and we walked.
As you moms may have guessed, the walking was meant to encourage our little girl to “drop” and come on out into the world.
After she finally arrived, my husband Guy and our other daughter Olivia (Elizabeth’s identical twin) joined us. And then all of us cooked, and cleaned, and changed diapers, and burped, and walked, and sang, and rocked. It was glorious.
After our time there, Guy, Olivia, and I took a short celebratory vacation to Italy. That might seem a bit odd, but it was a long-awaited retirement trip which we decided to tag on, since we were flying over anyway, you know. It was also our daughter’s 30th birthday.
Elizabeth graciously allowed us to vacation without her, only because she had already been to Italy. She has traveled to a number of countries, given her field of work, so we didn’t feel too badly about it.
In Italy we toured, we ate, toured again, ate more, and just enjoyed the beauty and hospitality of the beautiful Tuscan countryside.
Then, after almost six weeks with family, it was just me and Guy again.
And I missed the girls.
But there was this other nagging feeling coming along for the ride.
It felt as though I was not where I was supposed to be, or as if a part of me was missing – that part of me was still back there, and I had to re-join it in order to feel whole again.
Maybe it was the mothering instinct, because sometimes it felt as though, from somewhere deep down, a voice was screaming “For Heavens’ sake there’s a baby back there that needs you! Why did you leave her?”
I’m sure many of you can relate. Of course, I love our little home here, tucked in our corner of the southeast, but as I processed these anxious feelings, I found myself asking God, “Where, exactly, am I supposed to be now? Where do I belong? Where is my home?”
THE TRIP
I stood in line at our local airport for 45 minutes, to check in luggage and get my boarding pass for the Middle East.
Of course, there’s a little more to traveling these days due to COVID and the entry restrictions that some countries enforce; and, traveling to this region is certainly one that brings up red flags. But this was taking longer than usual. As I waited for the agent to look up information and get the necessary approvals, I looked down at the flight itinerary I had printed out weeks before. Yes – I “print the internet.”
I noticed something for the first time. There was small upside-down print on the back of the multi-page itinerary. I wasn’t familiar with the content, and I had no idea how it got there. But as I read the title words, something told me I would need it, and that it wasn’t there by accident.
In bold letters the title read, “There is Certainty in Our Future Home.”
It appeared to be the first page of a Christian devotional or essay, written by a man (no name was given) who described his journey back to his childhood home, along with his wife and children. He explained that “home” represents a desire for connection to the past, that makes sense of the present.
He then beautifully demonstrated the point by referring to Jesus’s words in John 14, as he explains to the disciples that some tough times are coming.
Uncertainty is coming, but fear not: “In my Father’s house are many rooms. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also.”
Jesus’s comfort to them was that, no matter how difficult things get, they would be with him again one day, and that he, himself, would get their rooms ready for them. In other words, they would not be missing a piece of themselves any longer; they would be whole again, with the one they loved and depended on.
As I stood there, I wondered, “God, are you trying to tell me that this is going to be a difficult trip and that I need to prepare?”
I really thought I had prepared.
I had prayed and fasted about this trip.
It was not going to be all ease, I knew.
But this “warning” seemed a bit odd at the time.
Then, as the ticket agent continued to have difficulty clearing me, I even thought, “God, are you saying I won’t even get to go, and that I’m going back home right now??”
But, as soon as the thought came, I was finally cleared and was boarding the plane an hour later.
The full itinerary requires three different flights. On the longest flight, I planned out my time carefully. I began by chatting with my lovely seat mate, enjoyed my dinner, and then finally settled in to read a book my pastor had loaned me. It was Franklin Graham’s “Rebel with a Cause”, from 1995.
As I read Franklin’s description of his childhood, I was struck by his love of home and the beautiful world which his mother, father, and others created for him there in the North Carolina mountains. The last line of the chapter I was reading seemed to jump off the page: “Home is just really important to me.”
As the flight dragged on, I watched a silly movie, the title of which I cannot even remember. There weren’t many redeeming qualities about it, but in one of the final scenes, a character left a relationship by saying she just “really missed home.”
And with that, I thought, “Okay, God. I hear you. I thank you. I’m not sure why I’m hearing all this now, as I head away from home! But I’m listening, Lord.”
I finally arrived at my destination and enjoyed some much needed time with my very pregnant daughter. I got to know my son-in-law better, and even enjoyed a little one-on-one time with him. I basked in the hospitality shown by his mother and brother, as well as the pastor and his family. And I delighted in the delicious food, as always.
There were also times when I needed to be alone and pray – times for processing feelings. These were often sweet times with the Lord, as well as “correcting” times, when he gently reminded me of my place and my role as a guest in this country and in their new home.
As the weeks went by, I began to wonder if I could ever live here – a place so foreign to what I know. I had marveled many times at my own daughter’s ability to adapt to such a different culture. But if the circumstances called for it, would I ever consider moving here with her new family – with this heat and humidity? With this broken government? This broken infrastructure?
“On the other hand,” I thought, “there is the delicious food! And there’s the culture of loving and loyal family life, and the natural beauty of this nation.”
But could I ever call it home?
THE DREAM
It is at this point that I should interject a few things about myself.
I really enjoy looking at houses and home décor in magazines and on television.
I particularly like eclectic European styles – a hint of French provincial, rustic, Mediterranean, Swedish, English cottage – I love them all!
For most of our lives we didn’t have much in the way of space or fine furnishings, but I was forever re-arranging the furniture we did have in order to give us a fresh new sense of space. At least that’s what I called it. Guy called it frustrating.
But I love home design.
Anyway, three years ago, we made our empty-nest move to a smaller, easier-to-care-for lot. While looking at houses, my request for the ideal home was that it be, either: 1) on the water (which I knew wasn’t likely, but this was a dream list, after all!), or 2) have an inspiring view.
After looking for several months, we finally found a good home on a small lot. I loved the mid-century feel, the abundant windows, and the newly remodeled kitchen. It was, and is, a good home. But, as is often the case, we had to give up on some of our dreams, in order to make a sensible move. No water; no view, but a good home. As I said, this move was three years ago, and far from my thoughts and memories these days.
Meanwhile, in the Middle East, as I was meditating on these messages from God about the importance of home, and the thoughts about my own future, it was no wonder I had a dream one night about it all.
But it was the “plot twist” at the end that took my breath away.
In the dream, Guy and I each bought a house in our daughter’s new country. Just wait – it gets weirder.
I went to visit his new home for the first time, to see what he ended up with. As I walked up the front steps, I noticed they were lined with a lovely Mediterranean tile.
In the back of my mind, I thought “Wow – I don’t have this at my new house.”
Then, I stepped through the front door and into an old cottage filled with bookcases, comfy chairs, small writing tables, rustic beams, and a fire in the fireplace. In the kitchen was another fireplace. And a bed. As I said – weird.
As I looked around, I thought, “How did he get this place? This is my style house!” I should mention that, when we go out to eat, I always envy his plate of food when it arrives. It somehow always looks tastier than mine. I realize this doesn’t speak well of me.
But in the dream, I continue to walk further into the kitchen, around a corner, and look out the back window. And there it was – the familiar mountains of this country, dotted with olive trees, pines, and apartment buildings. Lying below was the calm sea. I stood there for a while, enjoying and marveling at the unexpected sight. And then I slowly remembered.
“Wait…this is what I asked for a long time ago. The water – the view – it’s all here.” I was filled awe and wonder.
I seemed to be realizing in the dream that, even though I had long forgotten my wish list, God had not. He surprised me with the desires of my heart. I awoke with a sense of delight and joy.
ANSWERS IN ADVANCE
I didn’t share the dream with anyone, but I pondered it in my heart.
Time went by, our granddaughter was born, and life got busy. And now we are back in our little corner, and the memories of that trip are still fresh.
But when the anxiety started to creep in and I began talking to God about it, those three questions came up in my spirit and out of my mouth: “Where am I supposed to be now? Where do I belong? Where is my home now?”
And with the word, “home,” he brought back to my memory all of these messages from the previous weeks – the devotional printed on my flight itinerary, Franklin Graham’s words about home, the silly movie, the wondrous dream. I realized God had prepared me and even provided his answers well in advance of my questions.
There is indeed something very significant about home – the place where we feel whole, connected, loved.
But he reminded me that this earth is not my permanent home. Jesus is preparing a place for me in heaven. And a sweet surprise is that He knows and cares about my dreams.
I don’t know what my earthly future will look like or where I might live as time passes. And for now, I guess a big part of my heart really is thousands of miles away in a Middle Eastern country. A big part of my heart is half-way across this country in the breadbasket of the world.
A part of my heart is right here in our little home with my husband. But the beautiful mystery is that I am also seated in the heavenly realms with my Lord and Savior. And one day, every part of me will be there, along with loved ones. My heart won’t be in pieces any more, but whole and full in the House of the Lord – praising, worshiping, serving – and enjoying the view.
That is home.
~End~
