The Journey

Growing up as an Air Force brat and then later as a PK (Preacher's Kid) in a Methodist parsonage makes answering the question, "Where you from?" a hard one.  I never know exactly how to respond.  Do I speak of my birthplace, or do I list the six different places I lived before graduating from high school, or the seven different communities where i served as a pastor?  Maybe I should just say I was born in Waycross, Georgia and considered it answered.  I am never sure where home is although the years of retirement have brought me to a farm which feels more like home than anyplace I have lived.    

Perhaps, my journey from one place to another points toward the reality of our common journey from the moment of our conception to the moment of returning in death to the hands of the Creator who first held and shaped us.  When I started this blog and named it JourneyNotes some fifteen years ago, I had no idea how the image of life being a journey would be implanted in my heart.  I suppose I should have seen it sooner as many times as I have read and pondered the calling of Abraham to journey to an unknown land, but it took me longer than most.  

It was only after retiring and coming to the farm that I began to see what it had all been about as well as what was ahead.  A journey is what it has been and a journey is what is left.  There is a blessed destination as I have seen in the final steps, or breaths, of some worn out and weary souls who were longing more for Home than continuing the journey here.  I, too, have a longing for Home.  I know it is where I belong, but as for now, I will keep plodding along.  There is still a ways to go.