home

The MK (missionary kid) in me has always had such a ridiculously hard time answering this question, “Where are you from?” Or even worse, “Where is home?”. Even as an almost 40 year old woman (and gee-whiz how did I get this old this fast?!) it still causes serious confusion for me. Growing up in different places that once you aren’t a kid anymore cannot stay home is confusing. And honestly, it is traumatic.

Yes, traumatic. Let’s not even try to put a silver lining here, okay? Let’s shoot straight. Let’s be honest. Let’s be real. Let’s not Christian-ese this part of missionary life.

Yo. Pretending it isn’t real doesn’t make it go away.

Now that I am a second-generation missionary and my gorgeous husband and I are raising up missionary kids this is a real part of conversation in almost every day life.

“Where is home?”

The husband offers great perspective on the situation… until we were living on this opposite side of the globe, one place, one state, one town (honestly) was always his home. He was born in one town and worked his way through the same school district until high school was done. Then he lived and worked in that town. Compared to my ever transitioning life style as a MK I was glad to marry a man with this perspective. He recognizes and vocalizes within our home how important it is to remain connected with our passport country. “Back home…” is a regular part of conversation for him. Especially during that first term here in Ukaland. And I am ever thankful for his perspective and how it brings healthy balance to how we are raising our littles as MKs.

Until about 2010 I thought I seriously had figured out where my home was. Obviously it was in South Carolina. I was married there. Our girls were all born at the same hospital. They all attended schools in the same district (a personal goal of mine, mind you). Home was simple. For the first time I was ‘settled’ and no longer was that ‘homeless’ feeling lingering so closely. (Please don’t think I am making light of the homeless. I just can’t find a better world to describe what being an MK felt like for me.) In my feeble attempts I had allowed home to become something it really isn’t. Which became pretty obvious when God rocked our world and stripped those things away. It was really, really real to me really, really fast that I had believed the easy lie that home was a zip code. Home was familiar tastes and sounds. Home was the change of seasons. Home was a brick house on Lynwood Circle. Home was a school district. Home was the same phone number and shopping at the same grocery store each week. Home was a place.

That exterior level of home was stripped away when we transitioned to missionary life. The tastes, sounds, smells and the way home looked changed in almost every form that you can imagine. It was fun! But, yes, grief was real during that first term. Homesickness was an almost every day part of our reality for an extended period of time. Those feelings of being ‘homeless’ again found their way back to the surface of my reality. They were triggered just like ‘that!’ by any familiar or unfamiliar scent, taste, picture or memory from out of the blue. I think most often homesickness was and still is triggered by the lack of something. To even pretend it was easy is a waste of my time and yours. Everything, everything, everything that made up every aspect of life changed when we moved to Papua New Guinea. Everything except my people*, that is.  (*my people = the husband and those four girls of ours)

And life, with a bit of homesickness in tow, settled into a normal pattern again.

And then furlough.

And then kids to college.

And then a return to life in Ukarumpa.

And here we are now. Second term. In our own house!!! Does that mean I have a home? Cause, Lord willing, this actual physical structure won’t change (um, unless someone wants to come and add on a wrap around covered porch. just saying.). It most likely won’t change from this particular land plot during this second term and I can decorate it. I can paint it and put my touches on it. For the first time since 2010!

Then why the fresh wave of harder-than-ever homesickness? The tastes, smells and sounds of Ukarumpa are normal to me now. Those aren’t the triggers for me now. The space I have is mine to make ours. Why is the comfort in those things that I once knew nonexistent?

The definition of home has changed again for me and until we were here again, settled and doing life in Papua New Guinea, I had no clue what home had become in my heart. Home isn’t this L7 land plot we live on. It isn’t pretty things and lots of color for my home and world. It isn’t even the conveniences of life in America that pull at my heart. A single place can’t be home for me. And that’s okay. I have come to understand what home means to me.

Home is my people.

Home is where the heart is. All y’all have heard that one, right? A bit cliche’ but a whole heck of a lot true.

So what happens when all your people aren’t with you anymore? Then what? For me? It's been deep longing for what cannot be anymore. An ache for what has until now always filled my world.

Our girls.

Half my world is half a world away. Where can home be now? If home is the people that make your world?

Tough, eh? Yep. Wicked tough.

Yeah, and I think that it will stay hard for a long time.

But maybe. Maybe that is why God’s grace for us looks like settling into one space (L7)? Maybe that’s why God’s grace looks like less involved job roles (dude, the children’s home department and I would be a dangerous combination right now)? Maybe that is why God’s grace looks like iPhones and almost always having the lines of communication open between here and where Taylor and Tia are? Maybe that’s why God’s grace looks like Ukarumpa being familiar and ‘normal’ for us?

And maybe that’s why God's grace was this song for me last weekend?

Out of Hiding (Father’s Song) by Steffany Gretzinger, Bethel Music

Come out of hiding

You’re safe here with me

There’s no need to cover what I already see

You’ve got your reasons but I hold your peace

You’ve been on lockdown and I hold the key

Cause I loved you before you knew what was love

I saw it all, still I chose the cross

You were the one that I was thinking of when I rose from the grave

Now rid of the shackles, My victory is yours

I tore the veil for your to come close

There’s no reason to stand at a distance anymore

You’re not far from home

I’ll be your Lighthouse when you’re lost at sea

I will illuminate everything

No need to be frightened by intimacy

Just throw off your fear and come running to me

Oh as you run, what hindered love will only become part of the story

You’re almost home now

Please don’t quit now

You’re almost home to Me

Baby, you’re almost home now

Please don’t quit now

You’re almost home to Me

Home is my people. But most importantly, home is One Person.

“Jesus replied, ‘All who love me will do what I say. My Father will love them, and we will make our home with each of them.’” John 14:23 NLT

“Then Christ will make His home in your heart as you trust Him. Your roots will grow down into God’s love and keep you strong.” Ephesians 3:17 NLT

This life is momentary. We were created for eternity. Those are the facts that have solidified what I believe - that we are not meant to settle for the temporary things this world offers like buildings and places and conveniences and countries and sounds and smells and tastes. (Um, did I mention we ate glorious blueberries for the first time here in PNG this morning for breakfast?!) But these things are a part of this life. They were created and or orchestrated by God for us for our enjoyment to bring glory to Himself and to draw us closer to Him. 

The hard part is this… the delicate balance that must be maintained for the correct perspective.

The story that God has written for my life has given me greater opportunity for this perspective on home. And now by His gracious goodness, He is sharing that same perspective with those people I love the mostest. That husband and those girls. My people.

Yes sirree, Bob, my definition of home is shifting again. My world and this space we live in are a new kind of different because two very, very vital parts aren’t within my physical reach anymore. I am still learning to not peak around corners expecting to see them. I will always ache to hold them, and my ears literally hurt to hear their laughter (Skype and FaceTime are the bombdiggity). Yes, I think most often homesickness is triggered by the lack of something. So, I suppose that is why this promise is so precious to me in my right now.

“Be strong. Take courage. Don’t be intimidated. Don’t give them a second thought because God, your God, is striding ahead of you. He’s right here with you. He won’t let you down; He won’t leave you.” Deuteronomy 31:6 MSG

No matter where He takes me and which of my people are with me there - He is always with me. He is my home.