My family moved out of my childhood home when I was 15 years old. For all my 15 years of life, all I’d known was that small Vancouver Special on Spencer St. All I knew were the creaky floors in certain spots, the laceration-inducing broken tiles in the bathroom, and the loud frightening rattle and hum that came with air trapped in the pipes. How could I, after 15 years, ever live in any other place? How could I rest my head in any other room? How could I ever regard any other home as my home?
It took less time than I thought. Before long I felt as though I was at home again, even though it was a different house and we had a different postal code. All it took was realising that my home was actually where my heart was.
We may feel displaced from time to time, but we’ll always be at home. As God has our hearts, our comfort and our security, our home will not be tied to any one building, to any one city, or to any one postal code. Rather, our comfort, our sense of belonging, our home, will be wherever God can be found.
Luckily for us, God just happens to be everywhere.
Lord, you have our hearts and you are our home. Amen. — NF