It’s more than a building, more than a location. Everyone knows that. Anyone who has ever had one, or ever longed for one, knows that home is a wild, beautiful, messy mix of people, walls, emotions, scenery, memories and much more.
Right now our home is this beautiful two-story building that we had prayed for. It is the four kids who fill it with laughter and messes. It is the heat of the day and the cool of the night that pushes through the open windows. It is the sun setting behind a glowing volcano and worship drifting on the air from the chapel. It is bumpy, dirty roads and a language that makes our tongues stumble. It is sweet friends who bring us delicious gifts of unfamiliar foods.
It isn’t always easy, as I’m sure you know. Home does not promise happiness. It is often filled with frustration, exhaustion and tension. It’s walls painted with longing and doubt. It is there, in the struggle and wondering, that we are reminded of our true home.
One that we cannot fully imagine.
One that calls us from afar, tugging at our hearts. One that pulls us to our feet in the morning, and drives us in our passions for the day. One that promises forever in the presence of the wildest, most beautiful, all-consuming love anyone could possibly know.