Driving to town this morning, the thick, earthy smell of burning leaves takes me back to Wisconsin. Home. Standing in the back of the truck, rain falling, I can almost imagine that I’m back in my own yard with a small fire burning, my siblings running around and picking up the sticks and leaves, my parents tending the fire and grabbing the marshmallows. I open my eyes again and see tall mountains in every direction with a winding road disappearing around yet another bend. I see my team lounging in the bed of the truck with their hoods up, trying to block the rain from their eyes. Home. We go over another bump as the road transitions from semi-paved to mud and dirt and I close my eyes again. I’m back at camp, riding from the waterfront to the maintenance barn with my coworkers, my friends, in the back of the rickety S10. It’s been a long day at the lake but laughter, good conversation, and hammocking followed every hard moment. Home. Another big bump and I open my eyes again. Stray dogs fight on the side of the road, dangerously close to the fast moving tires as we fly by. Locals look up from their cooking and children stop in their tracks to watch the truck full of strangers pass by their home. I hear Mary, our ministry host’s daughter giggle from the cab of the truck, probably talking about the chickens or Frozen. My eyes close again and I’m in Northfield running through the park with Taylor and Grace, playing tag and enjoying each other’s company, laughing too hard to breathe. Home.
The truck lurches forward as we pass people riding dirt bikes to unknown destinations, work, home, school, the possibilities endless. Our vehicle is drawing closer to a small internet cafe 25 miles away from the farm we live on. Doubling as a photography studio, the cafe is now the place where all of my homes will come to meet for the next three months, where all of the pieces of my heart come back together. It’s strange how such a simple place can hold so much value to me and I’m sure to all of my teammates as well.
Home is where my heart is. Everywhere I have been to where I am, there is a trail. But instead of breadcrumbs, I have left little pieces of my heart along the way. In these places I am constantly finding new places of comfort and joy and peace. Safe places. Loving places. Good places. If we take a look into Ecclesiastes, we know that everything is good in it’s time, everything has it’s season. Each of these places has held a special moment in my life, God has used them to shape me and grow me but for many of them, the time to dwell in them has passed; it is time to move forward to the next place that God has for me that will capture more of my heart. Right now, Thailand and all of it’s rough and smooth edges is becoming my home in every sense of the word. I live here with the family I was given, my team, and the family that was gracious enough to share their beautiful home, food, and lives with us for three whole months. There are so many moments of beauty and community and there are also moments of grief and disconnect. Sometimes I find myself longing to go back to the comfort I had no more than three weeks ago, fed up with how hard I make everything seem and how much I am missing my other homes. God wants so much more for me than that and here I am, trying to embrace it all. He continuously is replacing my complacent spirit with an adventurous one, my heart of stone with one of flesh, and my selfish desires with selfless ones. Each day, He stretches me just a little bit more.
Untraceable at first, the results of the work He is doing in me have begun to grow. The very first day I spent with my team in Thailand, I knew I wanted to have my own space and my own time. I wanted to keep my clothes and my ibeprofin and my thoughts to myself. And now, just 15 days in, I have no desire for those things anymore. Who other than the living God, the one who loves us so much, the one who created us, could make such big changes to such a stubborn heart so quickly? Not a single person. He is alive, and He is moving here.
These moments in time, God-given, are beautiful things. They are places and memories that I am blessed with, but they are earthly. Temporary. My true home is in Heaven with my God and I am anxiously awaiting the day He takes me to where I belong: where He is. Until then, homesick as I might be, I will enjoy these little moments knowing that they are part of the grand odyssey that brings me to where I want to be. Home.
