Tomorrow I will be homeward bound.
I miss my home, my mama, my dad. I miss waking up in my very chilly bedroom and walking out into the warmth of the hub of their home where a wood stove crackles and invites you into its warmth. There truly is no place like home and my heart and mind have been aching for this place.
My home in western New York is nestled in a valley with hardwoods surrounding it on all sides. This is where I AM FROM. In the winter when you walk out into the chilly night air and stand knee-deep in snow, there is nothing to hear except the noise of nature, the wind whistling down through the valley as the starry sky above makes you feel miniscule while the moonlight dances on the snow. It is truly a magical place. This is where I was born and this is my foundation.
But as much as I feel at home there, I feel more and more like an alien in a strange land every time I venture back. My start was here and my roots run deep in this place. My family history in this area of the country is legendary and I am the only one in generations that has ever left. But my leaving was not because I wanted to move on to bigger and better things.
I was wooed away by God.
He called me out of this place I call home. He helped me sever my roots that were entangling me in certain death, and He rerooted me in Him, in everlasting.
I love going home, but it is always bittersweet. This culture that I walked away from has left scars that I am afraid will never mend. The worst pain I ever feel in my life is standing in my parents yard and looking over at my brother’s house next door, knowing that I am not welcome. knowing that he deems my life and actions as unforgivable, knowing what we once had is lost. In a family of 6 kids, I was closest to him…and now…I have forgotten the sound of his voice. I miss him. I long for his embrace. One year is too long to be separated from family, but 20 years? Heart wrenching.
I love my mama and there is no hug in the world that will ever compare to the hug of a mama. I love that my daddy still calls me his punkin’ wunkin’, even at almost 38 (on Tuesday). I love that home is always the same, yet I wish it were different. I wish to walk into that home one day and know that Jesus is present and welcome. I want to embrace my parents and my siblings as brothers and sister in Christ.
I want them to know what I know.
Until then, I am an alien…