Facing Home

When the Hebrew people were in exile, they gathered and remembered the promised land with profound fondness and deep longing. Even the children who only knew life in Babylon closed their eyes to imagine of such a place, a place that sounded familiar even though they’d never been there.

I know that feeling. I know that fondness and longing for home - my true home. I’ve heard people describe it, I’ve closed my eyes and imagined it, but I’ve never been there . . . I’ve never been there, but it’s as if my soul has, and it’s longing to return.

Sitting with these thoughts and feelings this morning, I can’t help but write about it. Somehow, writing helps my soul breathe, and sharing it offers the possibility that others know such thoughts and understand such feelings as well.

Somewhere beyond the horizon there’s a place surpassing all human understanding, our true home. On this shore, we hear whispers about what lies beyond our vision. (There are those who claim to know what it’s like and who gets to go, but they don’t know anything more than we do.) Our souls know all we need to know. It’s like they’ve been there, like they came from there. When we close our eyes, we can almost see a place we’ve never been.

Even though I have no idea when I’ll get to see this place first-hand, I can at lease turn my face, turn my heart, turn my life in that direction. That seems to be enough, for now.