I Want to go Home

You know they say, you can't go home again. The song, The House That Built Me by Miranda Lambert has been running through my head all day as we took to the skies twice on my way back home. One of my homes. I'm still trying to figure out if it's my real home or a perceived feeling of being home.

My best friend bought a house several years ago. I envied her for settling into her roots even as I wondered if I could ever rationalize such a decision. It seemed to go against my values to invest in property when there were people who needed to hear about salvation. I wasn't sure if it was okay to have a house and kids and savings in the bank or if that epitomized American corporate culture. Perhaps it was several cars and lavish vacations and the latest iPhone that was not right.

As the taxi driver wended his way up the hill, I was surprised to find that I didn't remember any of it. Just a flash of the church but everything else had either grown together much closer so that it was hard for the clusters of apartments to breathe or I had forgotten. Thinking back now, I realize that we spent most of our time on campus with our friends. I'm a lifetime older now and I cannot be content with playing Kahraba or Rummikub for hours. I shall have to explore and see where the roads take me.

I'm thankful to be here. I'm apprehensive about what the future will bring. I'm determined to embrace the adventure, if this is my last hurrah before settling down into a regular career, buying that house, and saving up for two-week vacations in Europe. Above all, I'm looking to God for guidance so I can walk in His will and please Him in all I do.