July 13, 2011


I’m beginning to feel a little bit like a wandering vagabond this summer.

From Arkansas, to Washington, to Denver, Arkansas again and now Texas—expecting a soon return to Arkansas and possibly Washington again before school starts again in 3.5 weeks— I’m beating the road and loving every minute of it.

Home means something entirely new to me now…

When I moved to Arkansas, I thought Washington was home. And I missed it. I talked of mountains and tall trees and clear rivers with glacier water sparkling in them. Somehow it seemed that if I could just feel the exhilaration of seeing the view from the top of a real mountain that all would be right with my soul.

But, as I discovered two summers ago, mountains aren’t home.

This summer, I enjoyed my mountains. On my way back to Spokane after visiting my aunt in Auburn I drove over Chinook Pass on Mt. Rainier.

Loved it.

I totally did the tourist thing and stopped to take a pathetic cell phone picture at every waterfall. I couldn’t help it. You know you would have too…

But, much as I enjoyed the rush of awe in seeing beautiful things, waterfalls don’t mean home to me anymore either.

I’ve discovered a little piece of home at Uncle John’s in Denver, cracking up at his weird humor and realizing that the wackiness wired into me is actually normal around family.
There was a huge piece of home at Grandma’s—chewing on fresh rhubarb, going barefoot in the garden, enjoying family moments, pitching a couple badly-aimed dirty snowballs up on Mt. Spokane, spending time in the kitchen gleaning priceless treasures from Grandma’s mind…
There was home in Walla Walla, meeting Araya, and discovering the crazy connection that my long-time, dearly loved Pathfinder leader is her grandfather. It’s such a small world.
Aunt Janie’s house was home too—corn dogs at campmeeting, loving on spoiled little puppies, and spending time heart to heart over old family photos, hearing stories I hadn’t yet heard and learning more about the people I love.
I even felt the warmth of home laying on my back on a blanket in downtown Denver watching fireworks with a family I had only met the day before.
There was a delightful sense of belonging in the Holland house in Oklahoma where I always know I can kick off my shoes, let down my hair, make a mess and be totally accepted as family.
And as I drove towards Arkansas and started hearing the familiar twang accent on the radio, I realized how much I’d missed it, and had to admit that, yes, even Dixieland is home to me too now.

But is it really?

Are these little pieces of familiarity only the shattered pieces of a mirror, as it were, reflecting little glimpses of the home where I truly belong?

The greater the longing for heaven grows, the more I find myself dissatisfied with this life. I’ve tasted things so much better.

Yesterday, as I was canvassing here in Texas with Lorina, I sold a God’s Answers to a sweet older lady and her husband, Bob. Bob told me about a local toddler who had crawled into the back seat of the family vehicle and died from the heat when she was unable to get out. Can you imagine? As a parent you would never forgive yourself for your neglect…

“I hate pain,” I told them, “I want to go home.”

She misunderstood. “Now, where’s home for you?”



  1. Mmmmm...Beth... Father, give us all homesickness.
    I met a lady last night who bought GC, Peace, and GA after telling me her friend just lost one of her newborn twins. Pain. Yes, there's too much of it going on. Can you imagine how God feels? if not a sigh is breathed, not a pain felt, not a grief pierces the soul, but the throb vibrates to the Father’s heart...?
    Thank you so much, Beth, for last night. It was good to be out there with you. :) Love you, girl!

  2. Oh, Beth, I needed that reminder, now. Every day down here I find myself realizing more and more how much life on earth is incomplete... It's not home, for we are missing so many crucial things that are at home.

    Yes, my heart has the same cry.

  3. I too am getting increasingly more homesick for heaven every day. . . May we each allow Jesus to prepare us for that Home and may we be an influence to others to bring them with us!

  4. I am so with you, Beth. So with you.
    There's nothing to hold me here... except the beautiful hearts that know nothing of where we're going.

  5. mmm, no kidding Jenae! Wow...
    It's been so good canvassing "with" you! Love you too! :-)