Walking Home

The word ‘sometimes’ feels like slipping to me. Not the dramatic outcome of a mischievously placed banana peel. But a very subtle nudge, completely unnoticed until you’re shaken into awareness by the sound of your feet thudding against the ground at the bottom of the slide and those at the top of the playground are wondering where you went.

You just...slipped.

A few examples:

I get angry when people don’t do what they tell me they’re going to do. I get angry when they change their mind last minute. I specifically get angry when it was something I actually cared about and was depending on them for. Sometimes, I am furious.

I am tired from hoping. I give what I have – a ride, a day out, an encouraging word, the last bit of my patience, rent – believing that any one of these moments could be a turning point for the rest of their lives. I am exhausted from the dance of three steps forward five steps back, sometimes wondering if I’ve simply hallucinated the concept of a finish line and I am indeed an idealistic fool.  

I am heartbroken by loss. I miss the people I’ve loved. Not because they moved, but because they’re dead. I remember the days when they were still here. When I am quiet, I sometimes worry who I love today that I will be remembering tomorrow.  

Sometimes.

It's so simple. So quick. So subtle. So...valid.

What comes after ‘sometimes’ does not betray me – it shows me where I really am. From the top of the playground to the bottom of the slide is the journey from what’s palatable to what’s honest. What comes after ‘sometimes’ are not things I share in casual conversations with casual friends because only those who are not scared of the complexities of what it is to both know God and still be human are willing to meet with you at the bottom of ‘sometimes.’

I find God here, in what’s honest about me - that I am furious, that I am more hopeless than I am hopeful, and that I am both sad and scared. It is in this honesty that I am reminded of a favorite quote of mine: We’re all just walking each other home.

While I don’t abide by the author’s original intent, these words speak to a very true reality for me as a believer in Christ. Home is not here. Ecclesiastes 3:11 says God has put eternity into our hearts. We know we are made for something beyond this lifetime, because we are. Home is in heaven, in the fullness of our Maker’s presence, where sin and death can never separate us again. 

Our lives now, though full of beauty and purpose, are simply the walk home. And on this walk, we are not alone. God has given us each other – whether family or friends – to brave this journey together.

This realization, that it not my portion to know the path but to simply walk with – it humbles my rage, strengthens my spirit, and comforts my sorrow.

For people will let me down and I will inevitably return the favor because neither one of us have arrived; we are both still learning and growing. In the meantime, God’s grace and mercy covers the gaps between what we meant and what we do, turning all things for good.

And while some paths may require a disheartening amount of backtracking, Mother Teresa reminds us that it is not our job to be successful but to be faithful. Success, as George Boyle adds, is God’s business.

And though some of the people I love will make it home sooner than I imagined, in the end I will meet them again in the same place I am headed – home.

To be faithful. To walk with those God has given us until we all make it home.

“I urge you to walk in a manner worthy of the calling to which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, eager to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace.” – Ephesians 4:1-3