Have you ever had a “DUH” moment, when you realize God has been trying to teach you a lesson for, say, 7 months and then you finally get it?
The other night I was having a self-pity fest. It was just me and Ali hanging out for the evening and I didn’t want to be a bad influence so thankfully, this conversation was just in my head. I was so sick of living at my parents’ house and I was making a list. So sick of not knowing where the tomato sauce is. So sick of cleaning up other people’s drips on the counters. So sick of not having a big plastic serving spoon like the one we have in storage. So sick of storing dishes in my bedroom closet. So sick of this. So sick of that. So sick of feeling like I don’t have a home.
That’s when it hit me. My parents’ house is great and they have been so, so generous to let us stay with them. They provide groceries, many cooked meals, shelter, food, lights, help with childcare, and much more all for a little rent. They’re kind and they give us much grace. We’re getting a great deal and I know, I really do know, that we are very blessed to be here right now while our new home is being built.
Even with all that provision and all that love, its just.not.home. Not my home. Finally after all these months, the message was loud and clear:
Before you make your new home and open it up to more foster kids, I want you to truly understand how frustrating it feels to not have a home. Even with a cozy house, even with tons of provision, even with loving parents, you can still feel homesick—homesick for a place you cannot go.