Where the heart is...

I'm sitting on the couch upstairs in our house at Three Hills. It's great to be back. Spending a quiet evening up here is one of the things I enjoy most. But strangely, it doesn't feel the same...

Usually when I've been out on the road for a while I'm always incredibly ready to be back again. I like having all my stuff on shelves, I like being able to scrounge for food whenever I want, and I like pulling my clothes out of a closet instead of a suitcase for a change. But is all of that what makes a place your home?

It just feels different somehow. Usually when I come home from a trip it feels right, like slipping on your favorite pair of sweatpants. This time it didn't feel like much of anything. Don't get me wrong, I was glad to be out of the car. It felt good to walk up the steps and drop my stuff in my room, and I knew where to go to get a cold drink, but it honestly didn't feel that different than any of the places I've stayed over the last two weeks.

As I'm writing this I'm thinking of the old cliche, "home is where the heart is". Over the last two weeks I feel like my heart ran on ahead of me, into the future. I can feel that sense of restlessness and excitement that signals that God is moving forward, that the season is changing and He has something over the horizon that He wants me to see.

I don't know what this next season is supposed to be about, but I'm looking forward to finding out. As long as my heart is in the future, that's where my home will be too.

Time to move