Going home

Saturday was a weird day for me. That feeling that hits me every time I go home struck again. We took a few vacation days to spend at my mom's down on the coast. She sold the ol' homestead where we grew up last fall, so things are a lot different now when we visit. At least they were until Saturday.

We drove over to the beach. We didn't do the sand, sun, and surf thing like we usually do. We did the tourist thing and checked out a local historical site, Ft. Macon. The fort is located on the end of the beach and you can see, hear, and smell the surf as it breaks. To get there, I had to drive past all the familiar surf breaks. As we left the fort and drove over the bridge back to the mainland, I looked at my wife and said, "Coming home is always hard. I wish we could live here."

It's odd how that works. There is nothing particularly attractive about the area that draws my soul here. Except for family or access to the ocean and a slower pace of life for people looking to retire or vacation, the usual relocation factors just don't exist here. I was fine until I got a good whiff of that salt air and heard the surf crashing. Like my profile says, my soul yearns for the salt water. I was born and raised in it. It's a huge part of who I am.

My wife knows how big a deal this is for me. We're getting ready to move to a new town and a new church. She saw the struggle on my face as we left the beach Saturday and asked in a very serious tone, "Do you think you've settled for something less?" referring to the move. My reply was no. I know we are heading exactly where we are supposed to be. The physical aspects of my faith journey are leading me to this new town and there are no doubts about it. But I do wonder why my heart aches as it does. It's interesting how the soil (or surf) your roots were originally anchored in still affects you, even if you have planted them elsewhere.

I think our faith journeys operate that way. I am convinced that we embark on faith journeys because there is some sort of homesickness that draws us to our roots. Our faith journeys are really journeys back to our spiritual roots. Like the salmon who instinctively swims back upstream to spawn, we go looking for our spiritual origins. And that leads us to our Creator. I have said it here before and will continue to say that there is something in us that draws us to God.

Not everyone will agree with me. Some would say it is a search for meaning. An atheist would certainly describe his life that way since faith is not a concern for him. While visiting the fort on Saturday, I saw a guy wearing a shirt that said, "May the god of your choosing bless you". That's how some people look at it. Others will say that there is only one god and that any religion you choose will eventually lead you to him. I think we are all on a faith journey, even those who deny the existence of anything beyond this life. I think the search for meaning or even the emptiness that makes you search for something to fill it with is homesickness. It is a beacon calling you home.

Sometimes I dread going home because I know I will want to stay. I like my faith journey most of the time, but I'm looking forward to my end desitination. Just a thought.