Not my home.

Twenty plus years I’ve lived in this corner of Iowa.  And it’s home now.  Kind of.

Fellow transplants will understand when I say that no matter how long I live here, I don’t think I’ll ever fully “fit”.  And most days, that’s okay.  But sometimes, it’s lonely.  And my heart aches and longs to “fit”.  To belong.  To say something and not be looked at like I’m crazy.  To not feel disenfranchised.   And then I realize, once again, that this place–not Iowa, but Earth–is not my home.  And the longing and the ache are for more than this world.  I might identify it as loneliness or feeling out of place, but it’s deeper than that and I believe we all feel it whether we’re life-long citizens of a certain geographical area or not.  No, my ache ultimately isn’t to fit in.  It’s an ache for Truth and Justice and Mercy and Grace and Communion and for all that’s skewed in this fallen world to be made right.

He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the hearts of men; yet they cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end.  Eccl 3:11


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