My time in Jamaica has come to end and I’m in Traverse City now. I can’t believe how fast my time went in Jamaica.
We spent our last day off in Mandeville shopping for our favorite Jamaican snacks for travel day, going to the market to get our favorite Jamaican fruits for the last time, walking around and saying goodbye to our homeless friends.
Before we left Jamaica I had mixed feeling of being so stinkin’ excited to be home and hang out with my family and meet my niece. To not wanting to leave Jamaica, because Jamaica has become my home too. My 3 months there is the longest I lived in one place in over a year and it’s nice to not be moving around all the time. One of the many ways that Passport is different than the World Race is that we were here for more than one months. And thus have gotten to know the staff here at Stones Hope really well. Which also makes it harder to say goodbye. I hate goodbyes. And I suck at it. I would rather sneak away unnoticed then hug everyone and wave as I leave. But for some, taking the time to say goodbyes can mean a lot to them and I learned that it’s means a lot to me too. There were so many goodbyes this past week (Jamaicans, my team and the other leaders) and it was much harder than I thought it would be. Someday, there won’t be any more goodbyes. And what a happy day that will be.
On the Race (and Passport), whenever people asked me where I was from or where was home I said the United States. Then if they knew the country well, they would ask what state and I would simply reply Michigan. Easy peesy.
Right when I got home from the World Race in November I was asked “where do you call home?” And it took me this long to figure it out. When I was asked that question my first thought was Traverse City…. And then I was thinking oh, but it’s Fairview. But then I kept thinking and thought of all the countries I lived in…. and realized that I don’t know where I call home. I’m from Michigan, where in Michigan is debatable as I have lived in several different areas. But where is home home? Home is where the family is, right?
During the time I was in Michigan after the race someone told me that I was basically homeless because I was switching between my parents and sister & brother-in-law with my stuff split between the two. I didn’t like being told I was homeless. But the more I thought about it, the more truth I heard in it and the more I was ok with it.
This world is not my home. My real home is heaven and so until God calls me there, I’m a homeless hobo. And I’m cool with that. Abraham was a hobo (sojourner) for years before God finally brought him and his family to the land which He had promised them. God has promised us eternal life with Him and eternal is forever. So that’s where home home is.
Looking back on my race last year and in Jamaica I’ve seen little pieces of that eternal home. The body of Christ. The churches in every nation. We are all one body in Christ, so every brother and sister in Christ I meet are a part of my home, my family. So yes, home is where my family is, and family is all over the world.
