Harry & Andrea

“How people feel when they are returning home from an absence, long or short, I did not know: I had never experienced the sensation.” - Jane Eyre.

A few months ago, I would have said returning home makes me feel “relaxed, ready to veg out, refreshed, always glad to be there.” Now, the answer’s not so simple. I am asking the question, am I even home? Where is home? If it’s where I grew up, then, that’s in Alabama. That doesn’t really feel like home anymore. It feels like a place I used to live, remember fondly and enjoy visiting mainly for the people.

If home is my house, can it really be home if I’m selling my furniture and packing things away in boxes? My once-cozy solace is upside down with boxes, moving and disappearing furniture, a stack of blankets that I’m not sure what to do with, and empty spaces.

If it’s where Harry is, I don’t really feel like we get much time together these days. We’re both working on our own details most of the time right now out of necessity. It’s just a season to pass through for a greater end, but it isn’t an easy one.

But, if home is where God has called me to be, then I guess I’m there. Preparing to sell the only house the married me has known and some furniture and other things–just stuff, but symbolic of a huge life change. Moving toward our South Asian calling in the only way we know how, trusting God to provide the details, finances, and emotional stability to live life abundantly along the way.  And we’re thankful for the opportunity to remember to long for a home that we don’t know yet, something we don’t quickly remember when we’re comfortable and settled.