Homesick

As a kid I dealt with being homesick nearly every time I spent the night away from my home.  I remember a camp I went to in 5th grade, and I’m pretty sure I was gone for around five days, but in my memory, I’m pretty sure I was gone for around….a year. At least, that’s what I remember.

The idea, as my parent’s explained it when they signed me up for the camp, was that I would be enriched spiritually. The idea was that I would have fun with friends. The idea was that I’d do  something exciting and new. That was the idea. But I only remember two things about the camp:  My counselor and the food. I remember my counselor because she was nice enough to take me aside during my crying fits about wanting to go home. She would pat my back, pray with me, and then let me call my parents. That routine happened every single day, and I’m pretty sure she became homesick too after dealing with me for five days, or a year, or whatever it was.

And I remember the food because the food made me cry, which made me run to my counselor, who in turned patted my back and prayed for strength (likely for herself), and then let me call my parents.  Spiritually enriching, fun and exciting is exactly NOT how I remember this camp.

I will never forget my mom’s words during one of the many phone calls home: “Katie, I miss you too, but if you come home, you’re doing chores and math sheets.  Either you stay there and have fun, or you come home and do work.”  

In short, my mom was saying: I get it. But GET OVER IT.  

And I mostly did, until college. I remember the first night in the dorm room once my parents left for home. I cried and cried, finally calling my dad to read a letter I had written about why I should come home. It was sincere, but also terribly dramatic and filled with over-the-top words and phrases.  He listened carefully and then said:  “Bake-Bo,” (this was an endearing nickname, along with “mongrel” and “hooligan.” But the best was saved for the youngest sister: “Belshazzar.”  Just read about him in the Bible and you’ll wonder why in the world we were ever homesick). “You need to stay at school.  You’ll be just fine.  Love you.”  

In short, my dad was saying: Kid, you’ve got my heart, but BUCK UP.

And I mostly did, until one night just a few weeks into my marriage. I was, and still am, so in love with my husband, but something overcame me during those first couple of weeks in my new house, with my new husband, and my new routine. He tenderly asked what was wrong while I sat sobbing on my new couch. I can only imagine his thoughts due to the relentless tears – maybe something bad happened to her today, or maybe she’s angry with me, or perhaps she’s been told some terrible news.  But then I disclosed the reason for my melodramatic tears:  “I’m homesick and miss my parents.”  I’m pretty sure he didn’t see that coming.

“Um, we live five minutes from your parents.”  

In short, my husband was saying: I love you, but WHAT IN THE WORLD.  

While putting my youngest to bed the other night, she told me she gets homesick when she’s away from us. This child of mine then proceeded to tell me that she has decided she’s going to “home-college.”  “That way,” she said, “I won’t ever have to be away from you guys. Like ever. We can always live together.”   

It always comes full circle, folks.  Always.

The funny thing is, when I think back to being homesick, missing my parents was only part of the reason for the tears. There was always a yearning for the love that uniquely came from their affection, but it was much more – it was a longing for what was familiar, a desire for comfort from my insecurities, and an ache for refuge from the daunting unknown.

I’ve had these reminiscent feelings of late. There is a distinct familiarity to my longing, but it’s deeper and broader. I’m longing for freedom from the prevalent violence in the world. My soul aches when I hear my nine year old and fourteen year old discuss the most recent school shooting and the number of souls that were lost.  Lord, have mercy and bring us peace.

I’m longing for release from anxiety. At times my soul faints with fear over the health of loved ones, the well-being of my children, and looming responsibilities that seem all-consuming.  Lord, have mercy and give us trust.

And I’m longing for the restoration of broken relationships. Strained marriages, damaged friendships, racial divides, and political divisiveness are all around us, seeping into every corner of our existence.  Pride breaks and destroys, bitterness grows into hatred, and addiction loosens the tightest bond.  Lord, have mercy and give us unity.

But I know I’m not alone in my longings, as I was reminded in studying Romans 8. Along with many brothers and sisters, the creation itself is desiring restoration:

“For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of him who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to decay and obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God.  For we know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth until now”  

The suffering in this life is something the entire earth experiences. You are not alone in suffering. All of nature is involved in it. But like childbirth, the suffering in this world can be endured because of the hope of what is to come. We have hope of a new heavens and a new earth where all will be made right, all will be made perfect.  And we have this hope because of the proceeding verses in Romans that remind us we are “heirs of God and fellow heirs with Christ, provided we suffer with him in order that we may also be glorified with him.” 

In short, Jesus is saying: You will suffer, but press on in my strength and with great hope.  GLORY AWAITS YOU.” 

The beautiful reality is that the inheritance we will receive includes the world and all that’s in it, but in a perfected state. We will be glorified, meaning we will have every capability to enjoy our inheritance to the fullest extent. And our relationship with God will be completely and fully restored. There is nothing that can bring greater and lasting joy, and there is no greater hope.

As a child and young adult, I had to learn to move past the longing to be home with my parents, but this should not be our response to present sufferings. Instead, embrace the ache for something better than our depraved world, acknowledge the longing for restoration of brokenness and sin, and allow these desires to point you to Jesus. They aren’t emotions we will outgrow, but instead they will become deeper and more intense as we better understand the depth of our sin. It’s then that our hope becomes even more precious. The hope that promises all will one day be made right; the hope that guarantees our longings will be no more; the hope that assures we will one day see Jesus and have perfect peace, and the hope that we will one day be home.