It Matters That it Doesn't Matter

 

Packing this morning.
Leaving after lunch.
Leaving home to go home
having travelled to home
on the other side of the sea
this summer too.

And how blessed am I
to know a boisterous belonging
in so many sacred spaces?

And anyways,
it doesn't matter.

I remember well one summer
when this really hit home
(pun intended).

I was leaving here after four badly-needed restorative weeks away. But that particular time I knew I was being sent back into the fray of a grinding ministry season with mountainous challenges ahead. Pastoral life can be like that sometimes. Just...really hard.

And in pouring it out to Jesus that last day,
like today is the last day,
as we sat together down by the water that day,
I could see Him just sort of just shaking His head 'no'
so slightly
with that patient smile of His,
and He said,
"Home is here, remember?"
And He made that gesture with His hand
to indicate the little space between us.

[This is how I would describe my 'experience' with Him, not what I actually saw or heard. Happens a lot.]

Oh right. I am at home with Him anywhere.

And that year it mattered so much 

that it didn't matter where I was, 

because Jesus is like home to me.
And that year
I took that home with me,
from home.
And He was right.
Right there.
Right about everything.

And this year
it is not a brutal thing I face in going
home from home.
But big things.
Demanding things
that I'm not afraid of,
just need to be on my toes about.

And it's okay,
because it doesn't matter.
And that matters
a whole lot
to me.