YAY!!!! It’s One Word at a Time blog carnival time again!
This week’s word is: Home
You are welcome to join in either by writing or reading or both. If you write a post on the topic of ‘home’, please add your link to the little widget below so we can all find it!
Remember, if you tweet your post or any of the others in the carnival, please use the hashtag #owaat.
Not My Home
I come from a land of castles and country manor’s, of moors and marshes, of fish and chips and spam fritters, of Queens and Princes, a land which, in my memory at least, is like a page from one of Enid Blyton’s The Famous Five books.
I come from England. The Land of Hope and Glory. Britain, Britannia, the home of football (soccer) a tiny island which, in union with Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland once ruled a huge part of the globe.
But it’s not my home.
I was born there, of British parents. My ancestry is Scottish (with some Viking thrown in). I lived there for the first thirty years of my life. By all accounts, England should be where I call home – and a small part of me does.
However, God doesn’t want me to live there right now, He wants me in the Golden State. California, USA.
So, for now, this is my home.
They say home is where the heart is and my heart is with my wife, so wherever she calls home is my home.
I often get asked if I ever want to go ‘home’ and I tell them I AM home… but that’s not entirely true – and it’s not what I really think.
You see, I, like many of the people who will read this today, am not of this world.
We often say that kind of stuff.
“I’m a citizen of heaven” and all that but most of the time, we don’t really believe it.
We act like this is home – but this is not our home.
One day, one wonderful day, we will go home. Until that day, we’re just passing through.
I cannot think of England as my home any more than I think of California as my home. To do so would open me up to pining for it – and the only place i want to pine for is my ultimate home – where we will live with our King forever.
I am just passing through. A sojourner, a traveler.
I could move to a new house, a new town, a new State, even a new country tomorrow and it wouldn’t make any difference to me (as long as they have good food 🙂 )
This is not my home.
Is it yours?