Home is an odd concept.
I always assumed it was the place where I grew up. My parent’s house in Nebraska. The place where my family and friends are. Where I go to church. Where I went to school.
Being in my third month of the World Race has radically changed my idea of what home is. I have called houses in Uganda, Rwanda, and Ethiopia “home” in the same way I call my house in Nebraska home. I have an amazing community of people around me 24/7. I go to or make a church every Sunday. I still kind of go to school, but the world is now my classroom. The Bible is my textbook, the people are my teachers, and the Lord provides plenty of tests.
Everything is the same, but it’s completely different. So what changed?
At my home in Nebraska I always felt like there was something more, something I was missing in life. I craved change probably too often, which is why my resume has so many jobs listed that it might be hard to get one when I come home. I was always searching for the next thing to satisfy me. The next thing that would make me happy or content. I was searching for things that only God can provide.
The living situation in Africa is very different from America. And I’ve been in very blessed living situations. There’s something about no running water, no air conditioning, unreliable electricity, dirt roads, squatty potties, and witnessing extreme poverty that makes you re-evaluate what’s really important.
Do I need a Starbucks Venti Iced Mocha? Do I need an iPhone? Do I need a hot shower every day? (the answer is no). Do I need a closet full of clothes? Do I need makeup and hair styling tools?
It’s hard to say yes to those things when I am talking with an HIV infected man whose family literally almost starved to death before the organization I am working with came in to provide food.
I can’t even think about those things when I paint the nails of an 8 year old girl who has been abused her entire life and is finding out for the first time what it means to just play and be a child. She has no concept of family or what it means to be treated like the beloved daughter that she is.
My idea of love is redefined when I hear the story of how my favorite little boy was brought to the orphanage as a baby after being found in a squatty potty covered in human waste. No one wanted to touch him because he was so filthy. But one of the amazing women at the organization ripped him out of their arms and scrubbed him clean with her bare hands. Now he’s a joyful four year old who has the biggest smile and gives the best hugs and kisses. Love did that. Home did that.
The things that I thought defined home simply don’t define it any longer.
To me, home is where love is sacrificial and unconditional. Home is where the broken, unwanted, and unloved find acceptance and healing. Home is where I am free to be myself. Home is where I come alive.
Home isn’t a place. It’s a state of being. That’s how Uganda, Rwanda, and Ethiopia could all feel like home to me. I feel more at home on the Race than I ever have in my life. I feel more alive than I have ever felt before. I feel more loved sacrificially and unconditionally than I have experienced before. I feel more accepted than I’ve ever felt before.
The Lord told me something at launch that I still think about daily. Home is wherever God is. Since God is with me, home is wherever I am.
This is the new truth that I am walking in for the rest of my Race and my life.
I am still in need of $3,800 to be fully funded. Also, I have still not met my last deadline. I am short by about $1,000. If you would like to donate, click “Support Me” at the top of the page. Thank you!
