New Number, New Home

Patrick and I have been in Colorado for 1 year, 3 months and 15 days.

We just changed our Florida cell phone numbers to Colorado numbers. Yeah, it's about time... Our new friends here in Colorado are thrilled because it means they don't have to dial long distance anymore to ask if we want to grab a bite to eat.

Me, I'm sad.

I miss my old number. I miss saying, "Area code four-zero-seven... yeah, I know... it's an Orlando number..."

Somehow, hanging onto 407 allowed me to hang on to what we left in Florida -- my family, longtime friends, people we ministered with and to, our first house where we brought home our first child, a church we love -- basically everything that represented comfort in my life. And I like being comfortable. I don't like new things. I want to know I have a safety net if things get shaky.

407 meant I might still be able to call my sister at the last minute and ask if she wants to get sushi for lunch -- even though it would be impossilbe to get there on time. With 407, I could still call my baby's first and my favorite pediatrician to ask for advice -- even though he wouldn't give it without seeing the child first. 407 was a symbol of my comfortable life. It meant I still had a tie to all that we left when we moved from Florida.

Changing my cell phone number cut that tie. I'm in Colorado for good. It's time to start building my home... It's time to make longtime friends here and find someone to go grab sushi with. It's time to find people here to minister with and to. It's time to like my boys' pediatrician. It's time to choose to love a church here because this is where I am right now. It's not comfortable, but maybe that's a good thing.

Changing my old Florida number to a Colorado one is teaching me something about my view of what home really is. Comfort is home. Home is where you are comfortable. But our home really isn't on this earth, is it?

Jesus said, "Foxes have holes and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head," (Mt. 8:20) and we are called to live our lives like Jesus. Last night I told Patrick I was homesick, but I wasn't really sure where "home" was. Being a missionary kid, I know what it is to constantly battle the feeling of unsettledness -- not knowing where home is while simultaneously turning any plot of ground and roof into a place of comfort. Is home New Guinea? Is it Florida? The house with the mortgage payment? Where my husband is from? Is it where I have the most friends? I honestly don't know...

However, I do know this... my for real home is Heaven. It's where, when someday I stand before my Father, the King, there will be no looking back... no ties to my shabby, sad excuse for comfort... no whistful daydreaming of the past... I'll check my cell phone at the door, regardless of its area code, and hear Him say, "Finally, welcome home!"