I woke up this morning with a smile on my face.
Coming at the end of a week when I’ve been alternately exhausted and overwhelmed, a smile was a surprise.
I’m going home today, home to Missouri. Home to where it will smell of freshly mowed grass and plowed fields. Home to a place where the need for rain (and we REALLY need it) is a common prayer request and everyone knows the score of the last Cardinals game. Home to the room that was mine when I was a kid. Home to a place where I am Keith and Gail’s daughter, Jason’s sister, Eli’s aunt, and I am loved.
I have two places I call home. The place I grew up and the house that made me, but the hometown where I now feel a little out of place. And Nashville, the place God brought me to and where I’ve carved out a life for myself. I love my quiet little house and the daily routines of walking the dog and cleaning the kitchen. I love the music and coffeehouses and plethora of restaurants. I love the small town feel in a city, the way the AT&T building pops out over the horizon when I’m driving toward downtown Nashville, and the gentle swell of green, tree-covered rolling hills. I love the history and hospitality. I love the church that has become my family and the friends who walk through my life with me, holding me up, challenging me, and giving me the gift of so much laughter.
Sometimes, when I’m in Missouri, I ache for Nashville. And sometimes, when I’m in Nashville, I find myself thinking that I just want to go home—to my parents, to a house where it’s not just me, to a place where I feel safe and loved.
And sometimes, I find myself whispering “I want to go home,” and realize I’m not really thinking of either of those places.
“If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world.”—C.S. Lewis