Missing Home

This morning I slept in and upon waking I ground some beans, turned on the tea pot and made a cup of french press. Usually I drink regular coffee, lighter roast brewed strong, but today I indulged in some flavored beans from a local coffee shop. 4 minutes later I stirred in a little organic sugar, a shot of Shatto cream, topped it off with a swirl of whipped cream and coupled my drink with some Entenmann’s donuts. Sitting down I thought, ‘wow this is an MJ Java sort of morning!’

The Fall of ’04 I worked in a specialty coffee shop called MJ Java. That was my “Fall of Failure” and the job fit the season mainly for one reason: The President of the company hated me. But that’s a story for another day. Anyway, we had a roaster who made the BEST flavored beans, and sold Entennman’s pastry’s so I often had a fab pastry with a cup of fab coffee during my morning break. I actually adored that job and fall seems to make me miss working early mornings, brewing coffee and making people smile.

Or maybe fall just makes me miss home. There is no season like Fall in the Loess Hills. Gorgeous greens, auburn, brilliant maroons and fiery gold and browns roll like waves across everything you see and every day steals your breathe away at least one with beauty. Kansas City just isn’t that pretty πŸ™‚

This past weekend my brother, sister-in-law and two others spent a few days in Iowa, picking apples with my parents. My dad said, “Jeremy was walking up the hill with me and I didn’t have my glasses on. I turned around and saw some little person come bouncing around the corner of the house and said “Oh! Is that Chrissy!? Did Chrissy come home? But when she got closer I realized it was Jen and thought, ‘oh! I want Chrissy to come home!” I didn’t cry on the phone with him, but have shed some tears since. My parents really love me.

And it’s not just because I’m the youngest (though my sister might tell you differently ;). Living at home I really sought to honor and serve my parents. I didnt’ do it perfectly, but really tried to work hard and help them in whatever they were doing and they saw, and really appreciated it. There have been many a time, when feeling lonely, disconnected to community or the lifestyle of prayer, unappreciated or rejected when I have strongly considered moving back home and doing just that; serving my parents, working around the farm, mowing lawns, cutting weeds, planting, mending fences, doing laundry, dusting shelves. And walking out in the fields, talking to the Lord where no one but my faithful sidekick (the cat) can hear me. Singing at the top of my lungs on a hillside, or late at night in my tiny bedroom lit by too many candles. But each time I give in to the reminiscing and the desire to simply return to the love of my father’s house, a gentle whisper reminds me “that’s no longer your home”.

Yes Lord, walking in the way of Your laws, we wait for You; Your name, even Your memory are the desire of our hearts. My soul years for You in the night: in the morning my spirit longs for You Isaiah 26

Fall. As all the coverings slowly slip away, the barrenness of our souls is gently revealed, and the longings come unveiled. Where can we call home? When will we find the place where all of our defenses fall, fears slip away and we live purely from our hearts? Not until You come back Jesus. We have been ruined for a home we’ve never ever seen with our eyes, but felt the familiarness of a hundred times in our heats. We wait for You Lord. Your name, even Your memory are the desire of our hearts. When will You come and satisfy?


One thought on “Missing Home

  1. It’s like it turns into less of a question of “Where’s my home” but “God, where is YOUR home? In me…”

    And, you make me smile in the fall; and without the early mornings or flavored coffee even! (though that trip to Broadway was the time that I decided maybe I did like vanilla lattes after all… πŸ™‚

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