away from home

If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast. ~ Psalm 139:9

As much as I love the island of Guam, sometimes I think of home. In the autumn, I think of our Michigan cabin, knowing that the trees are changing color and the air is as crisp with fall as a firm Delicious apple. Part of me longs to be there, to walk down the dirt road, to see russet deer and crimson leaves, to cut and stack fragrant firewood against a coming winter. At other times, I think of Arizona, dry and stark and austerely beautiful. I remember a trip I once made to the Grand Canyon in the winter, to see the snow on the red rocks and hear the wind explore the depths of the abyss. Most often, I think of my six grandchildren, learning to walk and read and dress for Halloween without me there to applaud their efforts. I long to be in my native land sometimes.

But as a Christian, I know that my native land is not Guam or Arizona or even Michigan, as much as I love those places. My native land is Heaven, God’s country, the place where I will settle permanently in the future. Meantime, when I long for home, I remember the verse above, the promise that wherever I am, no matter how remote my destination, God is there to guide me and hold me fast.

~ Mary Johnson