I can’t wrap my head around the concept of home.
"I’m going home (Florida) for Thanksgiving," I said earlier today.
"I’m staying home (NYC) for Thanksgiving," I’ve said in the past.
Home is a misnomer, no matter which place I’m referencing when I say it. My family may still live in Jacksonville, but it’s no more my home than the Moon is. And while I live in New York right now, who knows if I’ll be here forever? There’s a palpable sense of permanence embodied in the "home" concept, and I’ve just never, ever felt permanent… anywhere.
If home isn’t about physical location, maybe it really is where the heart is. Gag. Excuse me while I go paint my nails pink and watch Enchanted............................ Ok, I’m back. While I’ve never felt homesick in my whole life, I am always missing somebody, somewhere. The homesick-like effects of wanderlust?
Every single day I miss my
I’ve been to these places and loved the people who live there now, yet not one location has been able to fill the empty spot I have reserved in my heart for a permanent “home.” As I wrote this blog, I realized...
I haven’t been home yet.
Hebrews 11:13-16Each one of these people of faith died not yet having in hand what was promised, but still believing. How did they do it? They saw it way off in the distance, waved their greeting, and accepted the fact that they were transients in this world. People who live this way make it plain that they are looking for their true home. If they were homesick for the old country, they could have gone back any time they wanted. But they were after a far better country than that—heaven country. You can see why God is so proud of them, and has a City waiting for them.