Home is the smell of fresh rain on the pavement, the crisp leaves on the ground, and the sound of waves gently rolling to shore. Home is hitting the bushes while parking parallel on our tiny driveway and still impressing Dad cause he doesn’t know about the bushes. Home is going downstairs to find Mom working while cooking lunch, yet always willing to take a break to talk. Home is the expectation and then reality of seeing Bethel and Judah whenever we’re free. Home is Bethel’s loyalty and unconditional love, and showering Judah with
unwelcome kisses and singing Father Abraham. Home is the pre-planned, and spontaneous coffee dates, walks, dinner dates, homework dates, and do-nothing-in-each-other’s-company dates. Home is the deep knowing that my people see me, accept me, and love me. Home is where the heart is, and my heart is with my people.
The terrifying and beautiful thing about being in Spain, is that in the midst of homesick days and missing my people, I am developing a new home here. So far, in Cáceres, home is a tiny kitchen, and a living space where we eat, laugh, pray, and talk into the morning. Home is sharing meals with roommates and neighbours, and indulging in a few Lie To Me episodes together. Home is hearing the church bells in Old Town from the living room. Home is learning to enjoy walking everywhere, despite arms full of groceries and hair clinging to my sticky neck. Home is meeting new people and developing relationships. Home here is only possible through my home there, and my eternal home with Christ. And while Cáceres doesn’t quite feel like home yet, if I do anything right this year, it will be allowing Christ to imprint these people and this city on my heart. Home is where the heart is, and my people are all over the world.