We are coming home. Or are we? With our current term coming to an end in just a few weeks, it’s hard not to feel a sense of disconnectedness from what’s going on around the Mission. The other missionaries are planning for events that will happen while we are stateside. I’m counting the number of days I have left working at the new clinic, realizing that most of the work I’ve been doing will not be recognizable when we come back as construction will continue in our absence. I just realized that this is our last Friday night in Karamoja (we’ll be traveling for various reasons the next couple of Fridays in Uganda).
But most interesting is that I’ve caught myself telling people about when we’re planning to return home, using that word not to mean the United States, but Nakaale. When we first arrived on the field, I was very conscientious about not using the words “home” and “America” as synonyms. It seemed to me that I wanted to communicate with people that this was where we were making our life—that we weren’t counting the days until we could get out of here. I did have to think about it then, but almost unconsciously I’ve slipped into a comfortable association with this place as home.
But the problem is compounded because with our time so short, we are once again anxious to see our families and friends in San Diego, to attend worship at our home church, to eat at Burger King (ok, not Chloe). All of these things are still so ingrained in who we are, that our leaving, or our returning, creates a great mix of emotions. Whether here or there, we are coming home to something while simultaneously leaving something behind.
It’s once again a reminder that our home is not here, but in the kingdom of God, and that in all we do, we ought to seek first that kingdom, as Abraham did, knowing that we are wanderers on this earth and that Christ has gone before us to prepare a place for us in glory.