It’s strange, having more than one home.
You feel as much joy in one as in the other, yet each joy is different, and there’s always a part of you that imagines the different joy just might be better than the present.
It’s an eternal peaceful restlessness, almost always where you belong yet always away from somewhere you long to be.
I’ve been with my family for a year and a half now, the home I’ve called home the longest, but I didn’t come back to stay. I left my other home in Chicago, at Moody, to work and save and wait until I could afford to go back. Now I am going back, the transition is just a month away, and I’m afraid.
I’m afraid that I might have waited too long to go back. I’m afraid that I might be going back to soon.
My money is thin, many of my friends have graduated, I’ve got a new major and a year and a half of changed perspectives, and I’m afraid that when I walk across the threshold it just might not feel like home anymore. And even if it does, I may not be able to stay long.
Yet despite all these ifs and maybes, the thing I know for sure is that I need this change, to transition out of the safe and familiar and finish my interrupted adventure. There’s so much more for me to learn that I just can’t learn here. More importantly, there’s so much for me to do that I just can’t do here. I want to get back to Chicago, to be in the heart of the city and live with all kinds of people I don’t know and be a part of their lives and let them be a part of mine. I want to meet fellow Christians and people who can’t stand God and everyone in between and simply love them in whatever way they need most, for no other reason than because God says they’re worth it, and I believe Him. And if I’m going to let my own worries and insecurities get in the way of that, I’m doing it wrong, because it’s not about me – it’s about loving them more than me and Him with all I have.
Time to transition.