~ On Going Home and Coming Home

It was good to be away -

to "go home".

To feel like we could rest and breathe again -

nowhere to be, no appointments, no cell phones buzzing, no computer to check, and no TV!

There were moments when I found myself longing for that life...

walking next door to Mom's for breakfast every day (Oh to live by my mama!),

having my in-laws just down the street and enjoying dinners together,

hearing my children's laughter as they played with cousins and begged for sleepovers,

having my brothers and sister close and playing cards and laughing over speed scrabble when it probably would have been smarter for all of us to go to bed (like when my sister looked at my son's board and asked "Deep? What's a deep?" or how our game seemed to turn into the Princess Bride version of speed scrabble [think wuv, twoo wuv]),

having my grandma a block away and watching her great-grandchildren give her hugs and kisses and watching their eyes explode when her hand reaches into her candy stash to give them each a treat (and remembering all the days I spent at her house stealing peppermints and orange peanuts from her candy dish),

being in a place where I actually run into people I know from way back (Liz from Cookeville and Stephanie, my first cousin),

and sitting beside my husband for the awesome service at Long Hollow Baptist Church.(Oh the luxury of sitting next to my husband on a Sunday morning!)

For nine days, I pretended that was my life.

That may seem a little silly for a grown woman to say, but every day in my real life, I hear people say,

"We're going to mom's for dinner,"
or
"My parents are watching the kids,"
or
"I had lunch with my sister yesterday."

Simple little, harmless statements that make my heart want to throw a pity party.

The fourteen hour "mountain" that separates me from my family feels insurmountable and I begin focusing on what I'm missing -

the birthdays,

the family reunions,

the Sunday dinners,

the grandparents watching the endless soccer and baseball games,

the graduations,

the holidays,

the cousins growing up together,

the nieces and nephews turning into incredible men and women,

my sister volunteering to take the kids and me telling her, "Of course they can stay with us,"

cooking my Mom something special on Mother's Day or just being with her on a Mother's Day,

getting to say, "Just come on over for supper," or "Let's do Christmas at our house this year,"

and on, and on, and on...

Oh, it's a pitiful sight, this pity party.

The eyes gush, the nose runs and suddenly God's will seems just a little unfair.

(Even now, I'm a little blotchy just typing this. Not sure if it's from the sadness or the extreme shame I feel for admitting all this.)

I tell you, it's ugly!

It's not really a place where I want to get comfortable.

It's a place that says, "I'll trust You in everything God, but not this!"

It's that place of longing for what lies behind instead of wildly anticipating what lies ahead.

It's the ugly, arrogant place that says, "See God, I'm making this huge sacrifice for You. Why aren't You noticing?"

It's the delusional place that says, "I know what's best for me better than You do!"

I don't like myself much in that place.

When I live with one foot in reality and one foot in the wishing and hoping, the foot trying to hang on to reality becomes pretty useless.

“How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news!” (Romans 10:15)

I need both feet!

So, I usually remind myself of the moment I told God that I would follow Him every day of my life,

And then I remind myself of the moment I stood before this man of mine and promised to follow Him anywhere (really - anywhere),

And I grab hold of the week here or the 10 days there that I get to go "home" and I pretend for a little while...

but then I come home.

I come home to the leaving and cleaving and dying to self.

I come home to the blooming where you are planted.

I come home to the beauty of this place where I live and the miracle of this man and these children I've been given and the friends who have become like family and the people who desperately need to know about my Savior.

I come home to the pressing on...

To the taking hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. (Phillipians 3:12)

I come home to boundary lines that have fallen for me in pleasant places (Psalm 16:6),

and I crawl into my own bed and put my head on my own pillow (which is better than all the pillows in the world) and I say without any hesitation,

"It's good to be home!"

Photos: Fun with cousins and water squirters from Dollar Tree and eating delicious s'mores with giant marshmallows at Granny's house. (Aunt Lori says, "Don't try this in the microwave!)