(Originally posted October 9, 2016)
There is a children's book I used to have that I have been reminded of in recent weeks. I remember it distinctly. The book was as tall as I was when I was five or six...and it was floppy, with a bird on the front cover. The bird had taken flight from it's nest, but then he got lost and couldn't find it's way back home. It flew over the city looking for his home but nothing was quite right. Nothing was as he remembered. He became panicked and cried...just as his mother made her presence known. She had been following him to show him the way home when he became too tired to fly. They went home and he fell asleep under his mama's wings.
Funny how a children's book that I had years and years ago would feel so relevant in this 28 year old woman's life. How does it relate, you ask? Let me attempt to put it all into words for you.
I think any person who has left their culture of origin to live long term in a foreign land and culture will tell you that at some point they have had a period of time in their life when they couldn't identify where "home" is. No longer is it just the place from where we've come or the people with whom we've spent our entire lives so far. It is no longer 100% familiar and comfortable. But the place to which we have moved isn't completely "home" either. This results in a homesickness that cannot really be cured. When I'm in Costa Rica, there are moments that it feels like home. The same goes for Mississippi and for the Dominican Republic. However, I've found that whatever place I'm in, while I love being there, I miss someone or something somewhere else. This has been hard for me this year of transition, as I have been living in Costa Rica to learn Spanish and to continue preparing for the years I will spend in the Dominican Republic with the people who need so desperately to hear about the hope that Jesus offers.
I think that I caught a glimpse of what being "home" really means while I was in the States in August. I first began to realize this while I was singing with our praise team in my precious home church during my first Sunday back after spending eight months in Costa Rica. Let me see if I can describe what "home" is to me.
Home is singing and worshiping with Twyla Hurst, a long-time, dear friend and mentor. (And of course the rest of our incredible group of worship leaders, all of whom I love dearly.)
Home is laughing with my mom and my sister while we spend time together over a yummy southern meal. (And trying to make my dad laugh...even though we are rarely successful, ha)
Home is finding myself in the embrace of my beloved church family.
Home is praying with people who seek the Lord with reckless abandon and immeasurable faith on a Tuesday night (or any time:))
Home is seeing best friends after long periods of time and rejoicing over life's good times and crying together over life's heartaches– feeling as if no time has passed as we've been apart.
Home is where I find I am loved unconditionally.
Home is hearing the humble, sold-out heart of my pastor as he preaches...and even as he relates with one person at a time.
Home is where the children light up when they see me and run to me, "Miss Megan, Miss Megan!!"
Home is when I see the light of curiosity in the eyes of a person and sit on their porch step to talk with them about the hope that Jesus brings to every man, woman and child.
Home is when I am sitting with one of my favorite Costa Rican teachers and speaking in Spanish with her about the week and my heart's hurts or desires (even though there are still usually many corrections).
Home is laughing, crying, and learning through the hardest year yet of our lives with the other missionaries who are on this transitional journey with me in Costa Rica.
Home is sharing life with people. Loving people. Learning to be vulnerable with people.
Home is finding myself in the arms of Jesus when I feel the most lonely, hurt or confused.
Home is walking through the feria and conversing with the vendors in Spanish as I buy fruits and vegetables for the week. (And then spending the rest of my Saturday morning cleaning and prepping the food for the week ahead.)
Home is conversing with Jesus in my now-confused mixture of English and Spanish in the moments I'm not sure what to do or when I don't know if I have the strength to do this. (And finding every single time that He is still near, still faithful and still giving the grace I need for each moment.)
Home is choosing to be content with the fact that "home" isn't a place. It's people. It's purpose. Home is made up of the moments that God gives me to know Him, to be known BY Him, and to make Him known to other people.
I'm finding that as I learn more and more what "home" looks like, it makes sense that one place will never really be completely considered "home" again for me.
Going back to the book that I referenced at the beginning of this post, I can relate a lot to that little bluebird. In January, I took flight from Meridian, MS and I flew to San Jose, Costa Rica to begin this language learning process. In the loss of the security of knowing what "home" was, I also sort of lost a sense of who I was because before I left Mississippi, I had in some ways found my identity in the place and people I came from. With all of that stripped from me, I felt very much like that bird, flying and at some point feeling anxious and sad. "Where is my home?" Or even, "Who am I?" Just at that moment, the Lord made His Presence known and He gave me a place to rest as He showed me just what "home" really is.
Since that day, as He has continued to teach me how I can "find home," He has reminded me that I can seek refuge and rest underneath His wings. As I rest there, I find renewed strength, I learn from the Almighty, I receive new mercies and the grace that is needed...and more than all of that, I find an even deeper security than I had when I thought Mississippi was "my home."
The truth is – no matter where we live or what our stories are, the Scriptures are clear. This world is not our home. (Thank God!) Hebrews 13:14 tells us that this world isn't our permanent home and that we are looking for a home that is yet to come. In 1 Peter chapter 2 we are referred to as Sojourners. We are just passing through. Let us keep our eyes on the eternal and find "home" in the moments that God gives us to know Him, to be known BY Him, and to make Him known to all around us. That's home for now...until we are able to pass on through to the home that He is preparing for us … the home that will never pass away and to which we will never have to say goodbye.
