“I remember my family’s first furlough. We returned from what most called the mission field, but to me it was just home. After traveling halfway around the world, we converged with an intact community anticipating a reunion I didn’t know I was invited to. I landed in a place I’d altogether forgotten. The previous four years had swallowed up memories of America, yet not in such a way that made things look strange. I felt a certain familiarity in returning. Nothing I saw struck me as severely as when I first entered Hong Kong, but still, there were a lot of people besides my grandparents who magically knew us.” – Unraveled: A Memoir, chapter 11 

As an adult, these feelings can run along the same vein, converging at a place that may not settle quite right. Whether caring for the hearts of children who experience transplanting or yourself, each has their unique ways of unpacking the word “home.” Childhood homes conjure up certain ideas and longings for the present, and we may do everything in our power to create that same sense of belonging, comfort, and rest. We may encourage distractions to ease the transition process. 

It helps that we are globally connected through today’s awesome technology, but it can do little to fill the ache for the people and intimate surroundings that made home, home. 

You may be like me and conclude the edge wore off a long time ago, and it doesn’t make a difference where we live, but then you feel it in your kids. They haven’t yet become adept at it, and it’s just hard, for months.  

Whatever the case may be, I pray you and yours find comfort in the steady provision of a deeply rooted relationship with Jesus. In His own created world, though He remained one with God the Father, He felt the physical separation during His time here. We see how often He pulled away from ministry to connect with the only One who made home, home.