This is an
interesting word, this word home.
It’s one I’ve heard a lot lately; crewmembers getting ready to leave here after
a few months of service to return home,
others packing up for a quick holiday trip home,
still others finishing up their long-term service on the Africa Mercy and
planning for their new lives back home.
If I say I’m going home
I might be referring to the Seattle area, where I’ve kept my permanent address
for nearly twelve years… but I might actually also mean Duluth, Minnesota,
where I was raised. It’s also quite
possible I’m referring to my berth (bed), or maybe my cabin, or maybe the Africa
Mercy, currently docked in Congo. Depending
on who I’m speaking to, home might
even be referring to the entirety of the United States of America, or Africa,
for that matter.
Dictionary.com has 31 definitions for the word home.
Ultimately…
this is not where we belong. This is not
home. This is a place of hurt and sadness
and broken faces and disease and death.
This is not what we were created for… we were created for perfection,
and we had it once… and traded it for a bite of fruit and in that moment the
universe fractured and opened us up to all that plagues us. But… hope. And grace.
Thank you
for your prayers for baby girl. She’s
gone home to be with Jesus, where she
can be all who she was intended to be, not trapped in the broken, tiny body
that just couldn’t hold on.
It's a relief, really, that there is more than this. There is so much joy to be found in this world- and that joy is worth pursuing. But it's days like today where I just see and feel beyond my skin that things just aren't as they should be. My heart longs for restoration, for beauty, for the perfection and majesty I will only experience the other side of this life.
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