Well, I am back in the States. Thank you all so much for your prayers and love over this time. It was a challenge, but I know that God did use it in so many ways, and that I will never be fully aware of all of them.
I got back to school and walked into my room. My roommate had headed home for the short break between January and the new semester and I was alone. Part of me was excited to have the room to myself, but part of me realized that all of my homesickness and wishing to be home was not to be fulfilled by a dorm room.
The concept is an alluring one. What does it mean?
I know enough to know that home isn't a dorm room or a school. It isn't a state either, though there are people in states far away that make home for me. It isn't a house or an apartment or a rug.
Switchfoot did a song called "This is Home" which I fell in love with. It describes home, but it still doesn't tell me what it is.
I've come to realize something in all of this thinking: I carry home with me. It's easier to feel home when I am with people that represent home for me, but the truth is, my love for them is still there, even when they are not. I still have a home even if I am not nestled inside it.
All of this reminded me of my other Home. The one I long for and strive towards, even as I enjoy life to the fullest.
At different times in my life, I have been known to say: "This is home." One day soon, I will be there again.