Yesterday, I was confronted at Youth Group with a question. To generalize our discussion, I, among other girls, was asked if I could express my feelings or situation in poetic writing. At the time, no words came. Yet somehow they think it completely appropriate to flood into my mind at 12:30 am, as I seek slumber. My creative juices wouldn't stop flowing until I wrote them down. I discovered, with some help from a short film, that my word doodles described a lot about me. If you can decipher my English hieroglyphics, you are welcome to enjoy the rest of this post.
Home
I am from here. I am from there. I am from everywhere. Before I learned to walk, I learned to fly.1 I am caught in between the world of childhood and the world of adulthood. I am caught in between the world of family and the world of strangers. They are the same.
My home is anywhere I choose and yet nowhere I can find. My comfort is constant motion,2 unrest, and chaos. This is the familiar. This is my normal.
On one side, I yearn for my comfort of turmoil; on the other, I long for peace. I am caught in between the world of evil and the world of holiness.
Now I understand my restlessness. I am meant to keep wandering, to not be content with this world, this earthly "home." I am meant for so much more. I am meant to have an unchanging home that can and will never be replaced.
Of all the things that change in this world, of all the things that fade, of one thing I am certain: I have a Father who never will. God is my home.
Works Cited:
"Our citizenship is in heaven..." -Philippians 3:20
My feelings exactly. I'm always gonna be on the fringe, never truly fitting in... until the Lord returns.
ReplyDelete-Ivan A. Thiessen