I moved to Big Eastern City three years ago. I came for seminary, because this was the next step in building my life. And several weeks ago I left. I left because seminary is over, because this step is completed, because there’s a next step somewhere else. When I talked about leaving I say that I’m headed home for the short term while I try to figure out what the long term looks like. The problem?

I don’t know where home is right now.

I know that this place has been home. I know that I will always have a place with my family. I know there are many other places where I would be welcomed with open arms. But I don’t know where home is.

I don’t know the place where I will unpack all of my bags and boxes is. I don’t know where I will settle into is. I don’t know where it is that I will work to become a part of the community and to build new relationships. I don’t know where home is.

I know that there will be a new home. I have faith that I will love the place and the people I find there. I look forward to moving in, putting my books on shelves, arranging the kitchen, hanging things (like a shiny new latin diploma) on the walls, and feeling like “this, this place will become home”.

I look forward to finding it. In the meantime, I’m headed back to an old home, with a family who loves me.  I am blessed.  I have both little to complain about and much to look forward to. 

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