Come Home
The following is an excerpt from my journal a few weeks ago. It was soon after our move and we were in the midst of trying to find our new normal. Today I felt led to share this with you and show that, although I have great faith that God has been with us during this transition, it has still been very hard. Something that makes this season simultaneously more and less difficult is knowing we are only here for a year and will then move back home to Virginia. I hope that my outpouring of emotions in the lines below helps you to feel more seen in whatever season you're in, and also encourages you to really sit with God and let Him show you what His Spirit is trying to reveal to you today. God bless. - Jen
As I woke up this Sunday morning, I felt a sadness I couldn't quickly explain. My husband noticed and asked what was wrong, but all I could do was shrug my shoulders and continue on with my morning routine.
We've only been living in our new home for a month, and I had hoped we could try to go to church for the first time today. However, as I looked at the clock and knew I would need a shower before sharing a pew with anyone in addition to getting the kids ready and out the door, that hope soon slipped away.
After the eating of the cinnamon rolls and the ensuing tantrums of the toddlers, I snuck off to shower. When I was drying off, I realized that with the time change I could still turn on the live stream of our church back home. Maybe all was not lost this Sunday!
Hearing the familiar voices of our church staff and the tinkling of piano keys, my kids and husband joined me in my bedroom for a taste of the familiar.
I felt my mood beginning to lift as the organist played the first notes of the second song. Recognition of the tune washed over me and tears began to fill my eyes. They were playing Softly and Tenderly, my favorite hymn. As the choir sang, "Come home. Come home. Ye who are weary come home," I realized in that moment what had been weighing down my heart - homesickness. I wanted to go home. My heart knew it was Sunday as my eyes had opened that morning, and was disappointed when it was greeted with the sounds of a busy apartment complex and not a quiet colonial nestled among the trees. It expected to go to our church and worship alongside familiar faces, but they were all hundreds of miles away.
More than anything, I wanted to do as the song said: get up, load my family in the car, and begin the 14 hour journey back to the life that was familiar to us, to our home.
Obviously, this isn't an option. My husband is starting his new job this week and soon the kids will have their first day of school. As wonderful as that trip sounds, I know that my actual task is to stay put and make a home out of our new living quarters. Yes, it's very different, but I am reminded that God is still here. Just as He helped me adjust after our last move, He will do the same now.
The following postscript was added one week after the initial entry:
In the days since this realization, I have meditated on the subject of homesickness often. I keep circling back to the song that started it all, and think of how Jesus longs to have us with Him, as our souls long in turn for heaven. I am reminded of how humans were created to coexist with God in Eden, but sin entered in and separated us from Him, from our home.
The homesickness I feel now is a reflection of the yearning my soul feels to be with God in glory. All of the pain, anxiety, and suffering we feel on this earth, and that burning desire of knowing this isn't all there is, point to the truth that this place isn't our home. Heaven is our home. And I can't wait to go home.
As I think about what it will be like when we're finally home with God, another hymn comes to mind: "When we all get to heaven, what a day of rejoicing that will be! When we all see Jesus, we'll sing and shout the victory!" I can't wait for the day we all will finally be together at home.
