Where is Home?

Familiar flavors dance on the buds of my tongue as I relish the taste of home. I never realized how much the combination of peanut butter and chocolate would delight my synapses. They are firing in excited abandon as I smile and think of America while sipping a coffee laced with cream from the Scottish Isles. It’s an international gathering of sensory recollections, and I am burrowing deep in the relaxation of the day. Simultaneously, I’m yearning for a hug or the sight of a smile on a loved one’s face.

Living abroad creates such a multitudinous mix of emotions. I am always aware of the blessings that I have from experiencing life in another country. Yet, in the quiet moments of the evening, I find myself mentally meandering through the back roads of North Carolina. I see myself stopping in for a chat with a friend or receiving a squeeze from my niece or nephews before they run back off to play or read or dream away their night.

I am filled with the peace of knowing I’m right where God would have me - while still acknowledging it’s often hard to miss birthdays, or breakfasts, or walks downtown in a community where nearly everyone knows your name or your kinfolk.

Recently, a group of Tar Heels came to Bratislava on their river tour up the Danube. I had the pleasure of hostessing them for a few hours in the city I now call home. Briefly, I was surrounded by accents that sounded like mine and hugs from people who may not have known me personally, but who willingly showered me with the Southern hospitality I’m so grateful to have grown up around.

One man had made room in his suitcase for a big box of king-sized Reeces peanut butter cups. I have to tell you, I didn’t as often eat them in the States as I’m enjoying sampling them now. Whenever I eat or share one, it’s like I’m back in my beloved America for a bit, and I savor the moment in a way I never would have in the country of my birth.

While I now suspect it may be a long time before I live for long in the U.S., I’m also aware that it’s because I had the privilege to be born American that I can do what I am doing now. This week, I received an email from a woman I met in April who lives in Albania. This country where freedom to worship has only recently been a reality is still rife with instability and a poverty that comes from a past full of blows to the spirit.

My new friend asked me to pray for the elections in her country in July. Already, corruption is fighting to go unchecked, as darkness always seems to do with the advent of light. As I spoke to God, I marveled that the Creator the universe would listen to me at all. I’m so small and He so big, and there are starving children in Africa and teens overdosing in Siberia before they can die of AIDS. Here in Europe, I’m even more aware of the hurt and anguish found in foreign lands, and I wonder why God would even care to hear my pleas.

And yet He does, and I am amazed. He allows me the free will to live as I choose, yet mysteriously involves Himself in the answering of my prayers. Sometimes He says, “Yes.” Sometimes He says, “No.” Sometimes He frustrates with the answer, “Wait.” Yet, all the time, He answers – even when I think He’s being silent and separate.

He faithfully keeps His promise to never leave or forsake me, and I rest in the assurance that He loves all His children the same - no matter where they live and what their difficulties are. I don’t understand it. In fact, sometimes I honestly believe He should love starving children with broken hearts more than angry adults who terrorize the world around them. Then, I have to realize, each of us is starving in one way or another…and whether we believe it or not, our hearts were built to invite in Love.

So, as I sip my coffee, eat an English tea biscuit and remind myself I’m rationing my Reeces, I pause to give God gratitude. I give thanks to the One who loved me so much, He gave me a part of Himself in whom I can take comfort when I’m far away from what is familiar. Then again, I think all of us are far away from the place where we were created. Isn’t it going to be fun when we’re all back home?