We traveled 30 hours over the course of 3 days this week to get to Florida to spend time with our family for Christmas. That’s right, we DROVE our car from Mexico City to the Tampa Bay Area. We did it with 2 little kids, too.
Are we crazy? Probably. But the question that I have been asking myself is “Where is home?” Something weird happens to you when you live for a while outside of your homeland. You start to wonder where your home really is.
Someone once said that home is where your heart is. But what do you do when your heart is in two different places?
One of our missionary friends tells the story of his son who was called out of the audience when they went to an amusement park in Nicaragua. When they asked him where he was from, he said, “I’m from here”, even though everyone in the audience knew that he wasn’t born in Nicaragua. But to him, he was “from” there. Sometimes, I feel the same way.
So, where is home for us? Our house is in Mexico. Our family is in Florida. Our job is in Mexico. Many of our friends live in Florida. I honestly don’t know where home is. It’s confusing.
I guess it shouldn’t be that confusing, though. Our citizenship is in heaven (Philippians 3:20). This world is not our home. Our home is not in Florida or in Mexico.
But sometimes it’s hard to explain that. So, “going home” for me is always going to the location that is different than where I am at the time. Next week, we’ll be “going home” to Mexico. Last week, we were “going home” to Florida. Are you confused yet? We are.
Anyone else ever felt that way?
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