I’m going to go back to what I love during this Lenten Season…taking photos and highlighting the beauty in the everyday, the sacredness of all that is around us, and in doing so, finding God in his creation.
I’ll be using Diana Butler Bass’ Grounded: Forty Day Devotional as a guide. I hope you’ll join me on this 40 day journey back to Immanuel, God with us.
“He lets us wander so we will know what it means to come home.” Marilynne Robinson
“By the time I was eighteen, my family had lived in seven different houses in two states. . . . By the time I was thirty, I lived in seven more houses and four additional states. . . . Moving from place to place was hard. But making a home was a spiritual work of inhabiting new places well and knowing how to open the door to strangers—something not easy to achieve, but necessary to fill the ache that dwells in human hearts to belong.” (Grounded, p.165)
We moved around a lot when I was growing up. I was born in Scotland, landed in the states in Florida when I was almost a year old, then on to Texas as a toddler, and two different cities and various houses in Georgia during my elementary school years, all before ending up in Alabama. At the end of my 7th grade year, middle school, the hardest, most angst filled period in a child’s life. The in between, holding onto childhood while reaching toward adulthood. Trying to come into my own, all while dealing with raging hormones and navigating relationships.
Moving around so much in my early years, I never really forged any close friendships. I became so socially awkward that I kept to myself, many thinking of me, in middle school vernacular, as stuck-up, and later, as a young adult, conceited. Now, I think aloof is probably more accurate. I tend to distance myself physically, and especially, emotionally. Easier not to be hurt or disappointed that way.
All I really wanted was to fit in, to find space to belong. Something, that as an introvert, is so difficult to do, unless you can belong to being alone (sometimes loneliness), and to books.
Even now, my greatest desire is to fit in, to belong, to find home. It has been said that we all have a God-shaped hole in our hearts. I think it’s more than that, it’s an innate longing to know and be known. To love and be loved, because of, and sometimes in spite of, that knowing.
While we call the places we live, home, I think more than a place, home is a state of being. Being comfortable with who and where we are. Physically as well as spiritually.
God is not above or beyond, but inexplicably woven into the tapestry around us. We inhabit the holy, his home, our home.
“May my life today be a harmony
of movement and rest,
of going out and coming home.
And in both, God, let me be aware of you
as the spirit of wandering and the spirit of dwelling.
You are my home.”