Smeagol is Free!
A hermitudinal view of...stuff...


Blessed Belonging

I told Heidi that it's a 40 Acres sort of day. For those of you who fell in love with that particular album from Caedmon's Call, you know exactly what I mean. More than a few songs from it have resonated in my heart upon different occasions, and for different reasons. Today, as I was getting ready to go to church, I could hear Derek Webb reminding me not to mistake my happiness for blessing; indeed, that I'm blessed as the poor.

I've often had to think about the things that I consider blessing while I've been here in The 'Ville. At times I wistfully ponder what my life would be like if I'd never moved away from home at all. Sometimes, as several of you well know, that pondering goes beyond wistful and into the realm of pained and tearful frustration.

In a conversation with someone recently, the topic of missing home came up. When she (I think it was a she) expressed a desire to someday go to Hawai'i, I soberly said that I would, too. She then said, "Yeah, but you're from there!" What most don't understand is that being from there makes being away even worse, because it means I know exactly what I'm missing. That may sound a little ungrateful on my part, but I assure you that I'm not. I'm immensely thankful that it hurts this much to be away from home; I'm also immensely hard on myself when I forget just how blessed I am in the midst of the hurt. I have a family that loves me, even if I forget to call. I have memories that countless individuals can only dream of, all of them strong enough to make me smile and cry all at once. Beyond all of this, I can say one thing that most here cannot: I belong there.

But do I? That's what I have to constantly ask of myself: Do I still belong? And if not at home, then where? Even more, where is home? Boss and Kev and I often speak of belonging. I never really understood this until I left.

When I do travel back home, which is not often, I pop the Brothers Cazimero into my CD player. I sing along with them in my mind, "I'm going, I'm going, I'm going...I'm going hoooooooome!" I tell you, there's not a whole lot in this world that makes me happier than the thought of going home. I remember when I first saw Kayla, Kyle, and Kason on that trip half a year ago; I think I could have hugged them into jelly. I still have that first picture I took of the four of us in my phone...I look at it every time I open it.

Yet, does all that matter? Of course it does. But how does it matter? On each of my three trips home, I've had to soberly ponder whether or not I really was going to get back on the plane for the return flight to Louisville. The first time wasn't so bad, because I'd spent three weeks at home. The second was easily the hardest; I didn't really have any time to soak it all in. The third time wasn't so bad, and even if I'd wanted to stay, a certain young guy with old-guy hair would've killed me. Yet for all my desire to stay, I always had this strange, haunting feeling that I didn't belong, that home wasn't...home.

Louisville has grown on me during the past three-plus years. Is it home? Hardly. Am I happy here? Absolutely. Well, some days more than others, but yes, I'm happy here. Am I blesed? know, my eyes often tell me I'm not, but quite frankly, my eyes lie to me. Yes, I'm blessed, in every spiritual blessing in Christ. God lavishes His love on me, even here in Louisville...especially here in Louisville. I've known pain, I've known many tears and many sleepless nights, but through it all, I've known blessing. Pray with me that I'd remember how blessed I really am.

posted by Bolo | 11:55 PM
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