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May 7, 2013

Homeward Bound

I remember sitting the bathtub when I was a kid and telling my mom that I never wanted to grow up and move away. It wasn’t that kind of pixie dust Neverland-ing that makes us all feel magical, it was a very real fear that I couldn’t stop myself from growing up, and that I just wanted to stay a kid and have my mom take care of me for the rest of my life. Around the time I was eighteen, I no longer had a choice. It was time to go.

Most people hate high school, especially if they’re not the popular kid, but despite my weirdness, I savored every moment of it. The college experience that followed was like having to take medicine after a favorite dessert. It completely washed the taste of joy from my pallet and left me feeling out of place. I couldn’t connect to my university like I had my high school, and I no longer had a home.

The only place that was still part of my comfort zone was Sky Ranch, as I’d been a camper for my entire life, so I naturally came here to work as a counselor as soon as my freshman year was over. I had people who were more than friends to me here, they were my brothers and sisters. We were bonded by a glorious summer escapade on high, and they finally made me feel like I was part of an “us” instead of a “me.” Once again, I was home.

Then, as is the nature of the beast that is summer camp awesomeness, my broskis started moving on with life. There’s not a lot of longevity in camp counseling, and very few of us are turbo enough to stay here for the long haul. I understood, but camp started feeling less like the place I knew it to be as they departed.

One night I got particularly broken up about this, and went to take a long, hard look at my old cabin, trying to recapture some of the old magic, or maybe just cry like it was the end of Titanic, either way I was looking forward to a cathartic, emotional outpouring.

When I got there, I felt the last thing I expected to feel. I felt nothing. The cabin I was looking at had no mystical, nostalgic properties to it. I was just standing in the dark looking at a building. Maybe it sounds sad, but it wasn’t. It gave my weary heart peace.

That cabin was never home. If that cabin was home, then that means my ability to be whole and be at peace is dependent on grasping at a few special people and forcing them to stay in my life. No, no, no. This is not the home that God has built for us.

Galatians talks about the reality of heaven. The word “reality” implies that it’s something different from what we’re perceiving. Once you break the code, you realize that Earth was never home. This life was never home. Home is where the heart is, and my heart is with Jesus.

So let’s do his work here for a couple of years, and then let’s go home. Where we belong.

(Photo Credit)


Posted in Truckin Thursday, by Amanda Murray

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