Waiting for Home

I'm sitting in the Toronto airport.

It's 6:15 am in my home time zone. I've been up since 11:00 pm yesterday in my home time zone. I slept two hours before that. And I slept for two hours or so on the plane from Newfoundland to Toronto.

It was a good weekend. Filled with friends (family, really), laughter, love, prayer and hugs. Some harder things too. But good.

And now, now I'm ready to be home for a while. To settle into life. To rest. To pray and think and write. To sort out several major decisions that need to be made. To begin the process of seeking a community of believers in my own city to call home for a while.

I'm looking forward to my own bed, my own house, my own car (assuming we can get George started after the non-starting debacle that immediately proceeded my weekend away.)

I'm near tears, the good kind and the not so good kind.

I spent a lot of time this weekend in the arms of a dear friend, one of the few people in the world with whom I feel totally safe, and free to be myself. It's always hard to say goodbye to her, and this morning was no exception. But it was such a treat to be with her and be held by her and to hold her even for a few days.

It was great to watch two friends get married. It was great to sit in a tiny cafe by the Atlantic Ocean and laugh and talk over a shared breakfast with friends. It was great to sit in a pub, and a house, and various other locations and share laughter and food. It was good to hike by the ocean.

But now, sitting here in Toronto, half-way through a 2.5 hour layover, I'm waiting for home. I'm looking forward to seeing whichever family member greets me at the airport. I'm looking forward to hopefully getting George jump-started, and then taking him for a drive towards the mountains to charge his battery. I'm looking forward to cooking my own dinner, and then a nice early arrival in bed - in my own bed and bedroom.

One hour to go until my flight boards. Then (hopefully) a couple hours of sleep on the plane. Then Home. A safe place.

Home is a good thing to have locationally. Home is a good thing to have in general.

I have a locational home in Calgary. I have a spiritual home in Jesus, and in the company of some of the friends with whom I shared the weekend. I have an emotional home in the arms of a friend.

Places of safety all.

It will be good to be home.

(And to those of you who are Canadian, Happy Thanksgiving!)