I've been thinking much about the word 'home' and what it means lately, just like my friend Becca.
I sat down with an old sweet mentor from high school while I was in Florida, and he asked me if Kansas City was home. For the first time in a long time, I faltered. I actually stuttered, I think, because I suddenly didn't know if it was or not. It used to be, for sure, but I feel at home in so many places, it sets my head spinning.
I feel at home when I walk into the Gathering. I feel at home behind the counter at work with my little ones. Most of the time, I feel at home in my house in KC. I really feel at home in the arms of my mom and dad. I felt strangely at home in Zeway, Ethiopia. I feel most at home when I spend time with my Savior.
Corrie and I were driving around yesterday when I turned to her and said: "Do you have a home?".
"Oh...heaven. The other day at work, someone asked me: 'where are you from? where's home?', and I just looked at them and felt so dumb because I didn't have an answer, until finally I said that my parents lived in Texas. But I belong with the Lord. He is my home."
When I meet someone new they usually ask me where I'm from. I never give the real long answer at first.
When I was 13 years old, I had moved eleven times. I never thought this was weird, until college when I became keenly aware that I was missing this deep tie to one specific place that most of my friends had. I just don't need it. Instead of making a crazy person out of me, all those moves made me highly adaptable. I feel confident that I can live happily anywhere in the world.
I should really stop thinking about where to tag 'home' and whether or not I have one. If I've decided that the Lord is my shelter and my hope is in Him and all my delight is in Him, and He is a good shepherd who gives good gifts...then I really don't need a home on this earth.