HomePosted: August 22, 2011
“I could not quiet that pearly ache in my heart that I diagnosed as the cry of home.”
As of today, we’ve lived in East Asia for one whole year. It’s a joyful thing. I’m thankful, glad, love our life. But sometimes, some mornings, as I hover over my cup(s) of coffee stalking Blogland and Facebook and wedding photos (thanks, Keri)–it’s bittersweet. I miss America. I miss our families. I miss summer in the South and even more than that I miss autumn in the South. I miss weddings and babies and parties and friends in my life stage and Bible Study and tailgating weather and, oh yeah, church. I miss our families. I miss old friends (phone calls are far too infrequent and sometimes just not enough).
So, indulge me, just for a moment. Here are a few of the things I’ve been most sad, this year, to miss.
This wedding. (Among others.)
Along with their parents, grandparents, and aunt and uncle, of course.
This engagement. (Although–praises!–we’ll be home for two weeks in October to see the wedding go down. Ahem. More on that later.)
That crazy Farnsworth family.
This football game (I know, I know).
But let me stop this pity party. Last week, I took my new friend Cat to Metro (the German superstore where we buy Western essentials). In the cab home, we talked about bloglust and contentment and life in Asia, which sometimes seems so so far away from everyone and everything. There are things we miss–rituals and conveniences and mostly people. Over here, we don’t cut down our own Christmas trees. We can’t go home for dinner or the weekend or even holidays. Friends move on with their lives and we miss moments and entire life stages. We’re here, now, and putting down roots, but those roots do not (cannot, due to my native tongue and culture and skin color) grow down as easily as those planted in Chattanooga or Birmingham or Wherever, Southeast USA. The background is too different, the lifestyle too transitory. Life here is not idyllic. But, Cat reminded me, it’s not there, either.
What am I trying to say? That God is good. That our home, really and truly, is not in this world. That, as Paul wrote, “I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content.” Our satisfaction and strength must come from Christ–all other wells run dry. Oh, that I could remember and believe this truth! He is enough. My home is in him, and no where else. The yearning that wells up in my heart is, indeed, “the cry of home.” Home, you see, is not here. But it is not there either. It’s ahead.