A Stranger at Home

I know, I know. . . you are thinking that since we are back in the States for a bit, we should have plenty of time to keep up the blog. Life has been crazy since our airplane touched down two and half months ago. We keep thinking, "after _______ it will slow down." But the reality is that raising support is crazy. We have been traveling non-stop. We are thankful to be so busy, even if we have to apologize for our absence from the blogging world. It is my goal to again be a faithful Monday morning blogger--OK, I'm going to say a Tuesday morning blogger. That's when Ben goes to Mom's Day Out!

I don't have a great picture for what I really want to blog about today, so I'm throwing in a random one. Last week Cody and I celebrated our Tenth Wedding Anniversary. On our honeymoon, we spent a week in New England. So for almost a year we have been saving to take an extended trip to Boston. We spent four days there last week, and it was awesome. The weather was perfect, and the whole trip went a long way toward the rest we've been pursuing.

Now, to what I wanted to share. . . in the months leading up to our trip back to the States, we talked about how much we were looking forward to "going home" for a bit. We couldn't wait to enjoy some of the comforts of America. Looking back, I think we were looking forward to the feeling of home more than anything else. A place where we belonged.

The painful reality is that America doesn't feel like home anymore. Yes, it's nice to be able to speak the same language, enjoy the same foods and understand how the culture operates, but we don't have a life here anymore. And who else around me understands the weird Twilight Zone I'm living in--trying to savor such everyday blessings as helping the kids with homework we actually understand and worshipping in English while also trying to prepare for returning to Italy by taking language classes, working tirelessly to maintain relationships long-distance and stocking up on taco seasoning packets to take back with us. I am now saying, "I can't wait to go home," and I mean Italy. That's where our life is. To be saying that marks a great milestone in our transition overseas.

But the other reality is that Italy isn't really home either. My life is there, but I'm not fully comfortable there. There is still so much that is foreign to me.

This week I was doing a Beth Moore Bible Study on the Psalms of Ascent, and in Psalm 120, the author says, "Woe to me that I dwell in Meshech, that I live among the tents of Kedar! Too long have I lived among those who hate peace." She makes the observation that the author is neither from Meshech or Kedar and he is exhausted living as a foreigner. And then she asked the very timely question, "Have you ever felt like a foreigner?" Oh wow. Do I ever. And even in my own country.

Never in my life have I understood my citizenship in heaven as concretely as I do now. This place I'm at is weird. I find it hard trying to put it into words. But I am also thankful for it. I would never know the goodness of being a stranger at home--the longing for the sense of "home" that will only come in heaven--if we hadn't stepped out in faith to leave what we felt was that place all along.

The lessons never stop. The blessings never stop. God is good, all of the time.