It’s a sign that you see everywhere.  There are different renditions of it, “home is where you hang your hat” or “Home is where the heart is.”  Although I love the sayings and quaint signs and there’s truth to it, I find that I have felt more at “home” here in Georgia then I have felt anywhere in my life; despite not having built community, not knowing the town, the culture. Not even knowing how much my utility bill will be. I don’t know that Georgia feels like home because it is where my heart is. A piece of my heart is in heaven, and Southern California, and Redding, and Germany, and so many other places. Yet I feel so alive here.

It’s weird really, if I think about for a long time, to feel as comfortable in a place that is foreign to me.  I mean I am still punching my address into the GPS to find my way back after running errands. I am getting lost discovering parks. Each ride around town I find myself struggling to keep my eyes on the road as I soak in all the stores and places that line the streets.  I am not immersed in friendships and community.
Yet I do breathe with such an ease that my skin rests effortlessly on my bones as if the oxygen here exchanges unity to an identity that has always been me.

I haven’t quite put my finger on this community or even begun to understand the culture of our town. It isn’t a simple small town full of traditional life with passed down unwritten laws. It’s a town that is growing in wealth and people.  Tech companies are moving in creating a middle to high class industry and there is still a small town feel to it. It’s as if those who have lived here longer still hold onto the “old” Roswell and this new popularity  is demanding a change.

Yet each morning I rise, destiny seems to be where my heart, mind and feet land as I place them upon the ground. My spirit sings a song discerning I am moments from understanding this husky vision that has been spoken for years. The one that God planted in my heart at 19 when I first stepped on the red Georgia soil.  I breathed then with the same ease I breathe today, as if even then the oxygen exchanged a unity to an identity I had yet to distinguish. I didn’t ever grab a clear picture of what it was that God had for me, I just understood that He was nearer to me in this land then anywhere before and that felt like home.

It was easy for me to believe it was the people I was with or the ministry I was serving. Yet as I  walk out these days today, years later,  I have come to understand it is just simply not one thing.  When you boil it down home isn’t just a person, a place, or thing. Its not something your doing or who you are doing it with or where you are doing it. It’s all of them.  It’s the place where God has put you to do the thing that you were created to do.  He is home. In Him is destiny, identity, and community.  It doesn’t matter if I know the land, or the culture, community, or how much the utility bill is because in Him is the answer to all of those; and in time I will figure it all out. I will understand the culture, build my community, and I will eventually sort out the lay of the land no longer needing my GPS (this one might take me the longest).

Each place that I resided in before here, before this moment and these days. They shaped me. They helped form me into being able to be who I am.  I guess that’s why there is a part of my heart everywhere I lived and with who I did life with there.

I still don’t know what it is that I am created to do here. I don’t have this permanent idea of my calling.  What I do know, is that I am finally home.  I am not home because my heart is here, or because I hang my hat, or because Charles and Isaac live here.  I am home because I am living in the place that God has put me to do what it is I am created to do.

I rise each morning with hope and anticipation, excited that I am finally home.


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