Yesterday my aunt and uncle took my grandmother’s ashes to
her final resting place: Bakersfield, California, to the cemetery where my
grandfather’s ashes are. I
haven’t’ been back to Bakersfield since I was 10 years old. My grandma moved up to Washington
shortly after my grandfather died and I didn’t have the opportunity to go back.
Now part of me wants to, and part of me is afraid of it—afraid of how different
it will be, and that the differences will edge out my memories. And those
memories are treasures.
Place has always been important to me. The idea of “home”
had been one that has long been close to my heart—which makes any change a big
deal. When my grandma moved and changed homes I knew it was a big deal for her,
and it was also a big deal for all of us. No more summer road trips to visit
family and spend hours by their pool in the sun. No more July nights spent
sweating under nothing but a thin sheet simply trying to stay as cool as
possible. All that was over and life changed.
Life is still changing, and while I mentioned in another
post how I’m discovering that change isn’t all that bad, I have to admit I’m
still not all that ready to fully embrace it. That’s why the idea of “home” now
is hard. We have a “home” here in Hawaii, we still own a “home” in Seattle that
we are renting, and my parents live in the “home” I grew up in. So where, then,
is home? When I feel those tears coming on and the pit of homesickness in my
stomach growing, what am I homesick for? I’m realizing more and more it’s not a
place. It’s the people.
The place is still important to me. I have memories of
people in my mind that are tied to places and activities—mental photographs
that I pray will never get erased. But the place is important not because it’s
a place, but because of the people—and the memories made there.
Yet, as I reflect on the idea of home, I recognize it’s
something I’ve often searched for. Maybe since I left home for college, but
probably even longer than that. In this life it’s hard to “fit in.” It’s hard to feel comfortable and at
peace all the time. It’s hard to go through a day without longing for something
more, different, greater, or familiar.
And in my longing, in my homesickness, God is teaching me
that the longing, the unsettledness is part of His plan. Place is important to
Him too—after all He created the universe and lovingly placed us in the places He
wanted us. But more than that, place is important because of the relationship
we have with Him. We all have a longing for home—for that perfect place,
surrounded by all our loved ones—because that’s how He created us. No matter
where we are, we aren’t home yet. This world is not our home. We are citizens
of His kingdom.
So in that, I can try to rejoice in my homesickness, knowing
that I am where God has placed me and someday, like my grandma already is, I will
be Home. Home in the arms of my Savior where I can praise Him forever. The
longing will be gone. Homesickness will be replaced, and I hope and pray all my
loved ones will be there with me, for all eternity.
We’re all on the way home, we just aren’t there yet.
Grandma and I this summer, on her 90th birthday. She went home a few weeks later.
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