A few days ago, I was talking to my dad on the phone. It was one of those days where I felt like I was in the ocean, the dirty water kind where you can’t see your feet and keep feeling little tickles on your legs that make you think a shark is about to bite your foot off, so you freak out and start splashing your way to shore. And it’s not even in sight.
I was telling him about all the struggles of growing up and being on my own. Finally, I took a breath and said, “What do I do?”
His response, without any type of hesitation: “Come home and let me take care of you.”
Before I moved to Nashville in August, I spent the summer at my dad’s. It was one of those times that I now look back on and think how amazing it was, but also get kind of sad because it’s over and I didn’t embrace it at the time like I should have.
My sister and I hangin’ around the pool, my dad and brother telling jokes and making us laugh, my stepmom cooking us something to eat and listening to me bang on a guitar, telling me it sounded good even when it didn’t. And at night, we’d all sit in the living room after dinner and talk about everything, from what we did that day to our favorite songs to Bible verses. It was like I was getting to know my family again. And gaining four best friends in the process.
At the time, I was anticipating my move to Nashville so much and looking forward to something “better” that I didn’t realize I was experiencing the best. I was with my family, surrounded by love and happiness and God. There’s nothing better than that. Absolutely nothing.
Those are the things I don’t want to take for granted anymore. I don’t ever want to let anticipation make me unappreciative again or lose focus of what’s important in life. If I could go back to that summer, and a lot of other moments in life, I wouldn’t start my day talking about the future, I would just say “thank you” for all the blessings I had in that moment and embrace them to the fullest.
I love Nashville. But it’s not my home. Neither is Georgia. It’s not a house or a county. It’s not anything tangible. Home is where we feel the most love. I knew what my dad meant on the phone – He wanted me at an arm’s length to make sure I was okay and protected and happy. But love travels, instantly. Just knowing he was there for me and loved me and willing to fight any battle for me, I was home.
I think it’s the same with God. It’s easy to let the world drag us down. I feel the tug constantly and fall a lot. I believe when we’re sad or going through something, or just not quite right, it’s because we’re homesick for Him. Satan creates fun vacations; but they are never going to feel like home and eventually you’re going to get sick of the place. God is where we came from, He is love – He is home. And when we’re home, we’re safe. And happy. And completely at peace. And just like my dad told me, we all have a Heavenly Father telling us the same thing. Come home and let me take care of you. ❤