By Stacy D. McDonaldMy hand traced the door frame of the nursery one last time. It was true; we were really moving away. The scent of fresh paint reminded me of our first days in our “new home.” I blinked back tears as the memories from eight years of special family moments replayed in the rooms around me.
I closed my eyes as I recalled the aroma of Thanksgiving turkey roasting in the kitchen, the sounds of singing from the parlor (our piano room) and the excited squeals of our children bursting through the back door for a glass of cold water on a hot day. I recalled with fondness my older daughters working together, between giggles, as they faux painted our dining room and parlor. Now, someone else would enjoy these rooms. This house—our home.
Our two youngest children were born in the master bedroom. Five of our little ones don’t remember any other home. I know God has orchestrated our move for His ultimate glory; nonetheless, the pain is real. We leave family behind—parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and even one child. Our twenty-three year-old-son son will stay behind for a time before joining us in Illinois. We bid farewell to precious friends and a beloved church family. The tender ache in my southern soul will follow me up north—“Old times there are not forgotten, look away, look away...”
Not only are we leaving behind those we love, we are leaving our “own little world” for a new one. A world where y’all is not a common contraction and people who are surrounded by fields of golden corn don’t realize that grits are not only edible, but also an exceptionally delicious morning meal!
When God calls us out of familiar territory, as exciting as that call may be, it can make us uneasy. The older we get, the harder it is to adjust to new habits. We seem to get set in our ways and we sentimentally attach ourselves to things. Many times we lay claim to things that do not matter. We see the beginnings of this attitude in children who are attached to a raggedy old blanket. We marvel that something so frayed and insignificant could seem so important, yet, what happens if a family heirloom is stolen? How do we react when a favorite piece of jewelry is lost? What is our response to leaving a beloved home?
Those who suffered the heartache of losing not only their homes and their city to Hurricane Katrina, but also their loved ones, have learned that things do not really matter. When we invest in things we can expect to eventually lose them—if not in this life, then in the next. If we invest in God’s Kingdom, if we invest in training up our children in the way they should go, if we share the Gospel with everyone we meet by living it out daily in love, then we can expect to see those living treasures in our true, imperishable Heavenly home for eternity.
I must remember that Rose Hollow Drive was not my “home.” Our new house will not be my true home. As a Christian, my home is in Heaven and if I focus more on investing in (and filling) that eternal place, rather than attaching myself to a rotting, fallible dwelling here on earth, I can be content wherever I live.
I can and should enjoy the gift of my earthly home while here on earth, for all gifts are from God. However, I must remember that these walls are temporal. Our carpet will eventually need replacing, our pipes may burst, our wood will rot, our garden will die, and our house may even burn to the ground. I will not need to worry about any of these things happening to my real home.
Those things that we held so dear in this life will seem to us like the “raggedy blanket” cherished by a stranger’s child. As we discover the beauty in streets made of gold and explore the wonders of our Eternal Home, we will marvel at how we could have been attached to solid surface countertops, perishable hard wood floors, or a whirlpool tub.
Additionally, if I am separated from Christian family and friends by death or by a distant move, I can remember that our separation is temporary. I must remember that in our true home, we will eventually be together forever in a home where sin, sickness, and death are eternally forbidden.
Our reunion in glory will be sweet and the celebrating and rejoicing will be unimaginable! The laughing, the embracing, the feasting, the singing! The petty arguments and offenses that seemed so painful and significant on earth will be beyond our memories, as we rejoice in our Savior and finally learn to truly love our neighbor.
Since we will finally be forever separated from our sinful flesh, we will at last see through that glass clearly. When we gaze into the eyes of our beloved brothers and sisters in Heaven we will not see things and worldly cares, we will instead behold the bright shining likeness of our Savior. We will experience love incarnate in the presence of our Lord, and we will praise and enjoy Him forever alongside generations of precious brothers and sisters.
Originally published in Homeschooling Today magazine 2006
