promised land

My entire life my sense of home has been about where I lay my head at night or where my gypsy-like family and I have decided to spend the next couple years or months. A sense of home for me means a sense of belonging. Honestly, I can’t completely explain what the idea of having a consistent and secure place of respite on this earth means to someone who has moved so many times all over it’s surface, but I think everyone carves that sense of feeling like you belong somewhere.

Since being married for hardly eight months we have moved twice already. I believe it is difficult to feel at home wherever you might be in the world, but the real choice one must make is to “bloom where you are planted”. A sense of belonging is so very important for personal, mental, and spiritual growth. I think in this constantly moving world where it seems nothing and no one stands still for even a moment, finding the place where one feels most safe is vital. We all tend to find our place, our niche, wherever we may be.

My husband and I moved to Miami a few months ago, his hometown. As Miami does, she has already begun to suck us all dry and throw us into the whirling tornado that is her downtown and uptown scene. The streets that are constantly clogged with stand-still traffic, chock full of expensive cars, even in that paused state you can feel the city pulsing. Fidgeting like she can’t stay still for one second. It’s so easy to feel as though this town will swallow you whole and spit out your bones.


It can take all of you to either not get sucked in completely or shrink away entirely. I find some nights are easier tucked inside our little apartment with a cup of tea, facing the dim light of my lamp as a write late into the night rather than the fluorescent glow of Miami night life. But you don’t have to be part of the neon-tinged clubbing scene to make Miami your own, whether for a day or for a lifetime.

The desperate need for a sense of home, the cry for belonging; this is the heartbeat of humanity. We are broken and restless in this world, the longing we feel comes from building houses in the sand and trying to fill the void in our souls with trips and treks all over the globe. Though I have resolved to handle this nesting phase in Miami with grace, I can’t ever ignore that longing for Heaven, my true home.

As pilgrims simply passing through this life, on our way to a much better eternity with the Beloved, we are called to bear with the craziness. The restless spirit of a sojourner desperately wanting to reach the Promised Land is good. We were put on earth for such a short amount of time, our life here is just the wimpiest prequel to life on the other side of death. The glimpse of eternity every time I here my church body here in Miami worshipping in English one moment and Spanish the next is like a hint of what it will be like in Heaven.



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