I've always had this longing inside of me to be homeless. I'm not entirely sure why. Perhaps, because I want to do something countercultural. Perhaps, because I feel like it would help me understand things better. Perhaps, because it might solve all of my problems. I cannot say why it appeals to me so much, but only that it does.
But now, here I am exactly 759 miles from "home," and I couldn't help but feel homeless. A feeling of lostness has overcome my heart. As though I am once again a small child wandering the aisles of a grocery store searching for my mother, and the comfort that she brings. When I was at school last year and this happened, I would think to myself, it will be okay, because you will go home and everything will be the same as it was in high school. However, upon returning home, things were hardly the same. There was a feeling of emptiness there as well. And I once again tried to reassure myself by saying, it's okay, you'll go back to school, and everything will be the same. And for the most part it is, but I feel like I've left a piece of myself behind. Or maybe to put it better, I've left many pieces of myself behind, scattered all of the place. I have become so attached to some people, that I feel homeless and empty without them.
And so, to come to the point as to why I am actually writing this, I started thinking about what home really is. And home should be in the arms of God. But how can you find comfort in the arms of someone you can't feel? How can you find reassurance in a voice so small and quiet? How can you find encouragement in eyes you can't see? How can you find home in someone who was homeless? I guess my point is that I'm struggling with the idea that I might never feel like I have a home, because I was not made for this world. I was made for something more, something greater. So as I live on this earth, I will forever be homesick. I will forever be homeless.