Maybe I’m not the only one with this question floating around, always important, although sometimes difficult to answer.
There are some wonderful places that I have called home. My first home memories take me to a beautiful, white, 2-story house on the outskirts of Cincinnati, OH. However, the memories are sketchy. I remember the Ohio River that snaked along in front of our house. I remember an asphalt patio where my sister and I rode our tricycles. I remember a steep driveway that we could NEVER run down to chase our ball – our driveway emptied onto busy River Road. I think I remember red shag carpet in our living room (what were we thinking?) but really, that’s where the memories drag to a stop. However, one thing I do remember with great clarity – I felt safe and loved and cared for and it was home.
Most of my growing up memories took place in Bible Methodist parsonages in Alabama. Home for me has even been several different travel trailers – our homes while my family traveled in evangelistic work. Home? A travel trailer? Oh, yes! It was definitely home. Many happy memories, meals shared, and family altars made sure of that.
I have called a GBS dorm room my home. My first home as a wife could never be forgotten. An attic-level apartment on the God’s Bible School campus, 3 rooms shared with the man of my dreams – my very first homemaking attempts. Then I had the wonderful privilege of moving into and decorating a beautiful, brand-new 5-bedroom parsonage in Franklin, OH. In many ways, I felt I had finally come home. And I had - until June of 2005.
God’s plan for my life led me to make my home in places I had never dreamed of – on the border of Texas and Mexico, in the Rio Grande Valley. The heat, the bugs, the constant wind whipping through my hair – it was a world away from Ohio. I struggled to make this new place my home, even though I knew it was nothing more than a stopping-off place before arriving in a foreign country and facing the real challenges that lay before me. But surprisingly, a cinder-block apartment became home for me and I said goodbye to it and that hot valley with regret.
And now…..where is home? Well, I live in a beautiful house in Salamanca, Guanajuato, Mexico, on a street called Way of the Arches, and house number 121A. Little by little, I am growing accustomed to this new place, and new way of life. My husband and my boys are with me, I feel safe and loved and cared for; this is where God wants me to be – the feelings of “this is home” will come. I just have to be patient.
But what is God teaching me through this? What is His purpose, His plan for so many different places to call home? Could it be?…..He is showing and reminding me in ways I can understand that this world truly is not my home. He is preparing a home for me that I can’t even begin to imagine. Heaven is the Home I was made for, not these places I’ve called home.
I love the poet’s words:
Remember, this is not our home
We just lived here for awhile.
A place to live and laugh and love
Making memories as a child.
Our real home waits on the other side
Where our treasures lie in store.
No need to grieve for this old place
For Heaven holds much more.
I long to go home, to my real Home – the one I was made for.
There are some wonderful places that I have called home. My first home memories take me to a beautiful, white, 2-story house on the outskirts of Cincinnati, OH. However, the memories are sketchy. I remember the Ohio River that snaked along in front of our house. I remember an asphalt patio where my sister and I rode our tricycles. I remember a steep driveway that we could NEVER run down to chase our ball – our driveway emptied onto busy River Road. I think I remember red shag carpet in our living room (what were we thinking?) but really, that’s where the memories drag to a stop. However, one thing I do remember with great clarity – I felt safe and loved and cared for and it was home.
Most of my growing up memories took place in Bible Methodist parsonages in Alabama. Home for me has even been several different travel trailers – our homes while my family traveled in evangelistic work. Home? A travel trailer? Oh, yes! It was definitely home. Many happy memories, meals shared, and family altars made sure of that.
I have called a GBS dorm room my home. My first home as a wife could never be forgotten. An attic-level apartment on the God’s Bible School campus, 3 rooms shared with the man of my dreams – my very first homemaking attempts. Then I had the wonderful privilege of moving into and decorating a beautiful, brand-new 5-bedroom parsonage in Franklin, OH. In many ways, I felt I had finally come home. And I had - until June of 2005.
God’s plan for my life led me to make my home in places I had never dreamed of – on the border of Texas and Mexico, in the Rio Grande Valley. The heat, the bugs, the constant wind whipping through my hair – it was a world away from Ohio. I struggled to make this new place my home, even though I knew it was nothing more than a stopping-off place before arriving in a foreign country and facing the real challenges that lay before me. But surprisingly, a cinder-block apartment became home for me and I said goodbye to it and that hot valley with regret.
And now…..where is home? Well, I live in a beautiful house in Salamanca, Guanajuato, Mexico, on a street called Way of the Arches, and house number 121A. Little by little, I am growing accustomed to this new place, and new way of life. My husband and my boys are with me, I feel safe and loved and cared for; this is where God wants me to be – the feelings of “this is home” will come. I just have to be patient.
But what is God teaching me through this? What is His purpose, His plan for so many different places to call home? Could it be?…..He is showing and reminding me in ways I can understand that this world truly is not my home. He is preparing a home for me that I can’t even begin to imagine. Heaven is the Home I was made for, not these places I’ve called home.
I love the poet’s words:
Remember, this is not our home
We just lived here for awhile.
A place to live and laugh and love
Making memories as a child.
Our real home waits on the other side
Where our treasures lie in store.
No need to grieve for this old place
For Heaven holds much more.
I long to go home, to my real Home – the one I was made for.
