It’s a good thing that there are 253 page pdf owner’s manuals online for smartphones.  It’s self-help.  Not that I’m into being completely independent all the time, but ti’s nice to be able to repair your own things.

Nice and cheap.

This moment marks eighteen and a half hours until I get to see my family again, after seven weeks of being apart.  I know it’s not the longest time ever, but it feels long.  I’m ready to be at home with them, in the familiar but sort of unfamiliar places of my suburban Minnesota hometown again.

I’m ready to be back in the Land of 10,000 Lakes where they sell Kemp’s ice cream and Caribou coffee and people say “bayyyg” instead of “bag” and “pellowah” instead of “pillow.”  I’m ready to get used to living without excessive street noise as the soundtrack for every night.  I’m ready to drive directly to places instead of taking the roundabout way on the L.

I’m ready to bring my heart home to the people who know it best, to sit with my mom in the mornings and drink coffee together.  I’m ready to find out what your first summer back at home after being away at college is like.  I’m ready to see what Jesus wants to do with these three months where I have no plans.

I guess you could say that I’m ready to be home.  I’ll be happy to stay here another week; I’ll live where I’m planted.  But I’ll be glad to be home soon.

Home, where is it?

I’m sitting in the doctor’s office right now, which is obviously not home. It doesn’t look like it, doesn’t smell like it, and has way more people under the age of 5 than my house does. I’ll be sitting here for a while, so I’m going to think about where my home is.
I just started reading Little Dorritt by Charles Dickens as my first official book of summer reading today. In the first chapter, the gentleman in jail describes where his mother was born, the other country where she lived, the same for his father, and his own birthplace. He says, with grandeur, “I am a citizen of the world.”
Which got me to thinking about home and belonging and where I’m from.
I’ve lived in Minnesota my entire life, so I obviously say that’s where I’m from now, and I will continue to say that when I go to college out of state in the fall. But then, if I decide to stay there after college, if I become a citizen of a different state, what do I say when people ask where I’m from?
Well, I lived in the same house, same room – but we changed the paint colors to lime green when I turned twelve – until I was 18. And I always told my parents when I was younger that I would never move, that I’d bring my family there when I grew up. And I would build a little house for my parents in between ours and our neighbor’s house. So, that’s where I’m technically from, but I’ve lived here for 6 years, so this sort of feels like home.
Then what if I move to another country and then come back to the US? Then no one will have an attention span long enough to hear the whole story.
Home is where the heart is, right? And I’m not really supposed to feel at home on earth at all since Heaven’s pretty much the eternal residence. But I obviously need a temporarily permanent residence for while I’m alive and mortal, so I may have some issues with identity if I move.
Oh, but to be a citizen of the world in the sense that the gentleman in jail in Little Dorritt means it, to live in multiple countries in the course of a lifetime, to leave a piece of your loyalty there, to have memories and cultural knowledge firsthand from more than one culture… That’s an invigorating thought.
Home: does it really matter where it is? As long as it’s the place I’m meant to be at the time, the location my roots are doesn’t have to be easily describable to someone I’ve just met. In fact, why not go for the most complex story I can get?
After an hour of waiting – which only ended up in giving me a referral – I came to the conclusion that maybe I’m going to have to be okay with not knowing exactly how to respond to the “where ya from” query. That maybe part of my stretching and growth will be in the
changes in scenery.
I could use a change in scenery after this doctor’s office.