I sit buckled up, waiting for takeoff. Many of my fellow passengers are anxious, impatient as the minutes tick by and the temperature steadily rises inside the stuffy cabin of the plane. My mood is serene.
The customs forms arrive, and I fill them out, almost without thinking about it. This is just another day in my amazing job at Living Water. I have sat on this landing strip, bound for Nicaragua, so many times that I no longer keep count. I’m not impatient, because today I’m keenly aware of what a blessing it is to be able to go. I’m not anxious, because I”m not going to a foreign country – I’m going home.
As I consider this delightful truth – that a white American girl of Celtic descent would feel at home in Latin America, speaking Spanish, I am amazed at how God gives us affections that are unnatural – affections that make sense only in the context of his Kingdom and his perspective.
For me, home means many places —
Austin, Texas – the home of my Mimi & Grandad. A house that stands witness to generations passing. A house whose walls echo with the memories of growth, laughter, and life – a home that represents family for me.
Amarillo, Texas – the place I grew up. When people ask where I’m “from,” this is the answer they get. A land of wide open spaces, Texas drawls & friendly people. A relatively small country town, trying desperately to become cosmopolitan. It was a wonderful place to grow up – just large enough to have a movie theater, still small enough to feel friendly.
Limuru, Kenya – I spent only a summer there, and yet the beautiful people of Kenya welcomed me like a long-lost member of their family. I quickly fell into the slow, sweet rhythm of life – where relationships are valued over tasks, and where Christians who love Jesus deeply are hungry for Biblical teaching.
It was there that I rocked orphan babies to sleep, gazing into their sweet brown eyes until they drowsily fell shut.
It was there that I realized the depth of my selfishness and how dependent I am on technology – the Kikuyu women laughed when I didn’t know how to wash clothes without a machine.
It was there that I found myself falling in love with a man … (who is now my husband).
Hidden Falls Ranch – on the edge of Palo Duro Canyon, there’s a simple and wonderful summer camp for kids. The nature scenes are incredible, the counselors become family, the kids have the week of their lives, and God moves in meaningful ways.
As an awkward 12-year-old who had just met Jesus, this is the place where I first understood what it meant to be a Christian – I watched my 14 and 16-year old camp counselors with awe and grew deeply when I was new to the faith.
As a teenager, HFR was a place of freedom, of s t r e t c h i n g & growing, of pure and unadulterated joy. It was at HFR that I really discovered my love of living outdoors, barely glancing in a mirror all day, of using my body as a tool for service, of drooping in exhaustion at night but eagerly looking forward to each coming day …
… So maybe it's true, what they say … that home is where the heart is. I'm very much counting on this, as I prepare to spend 11 months looking for home in various places.
Or just maybe, home is where the kingdom is – where his people are.
[Confession: I didn't get to the exciting part – my journey finding home in Nicaragua. Stay tuned, for tomorrow you shall hear!]
