Finding Myself

They ask me if I miss home.

“No, not really,” I answer.

It’s not that I don’t love them, or that I don’t cherish them.
I do. So much.

It’s not that I don’t think of them, ever,
Or wonder how they’re doing.

It’s just that these are two separate worlds,
And I, two separate people, it seems.

I am not here who I am with them there.
I am, but I am not.

Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say,
I am known differently in each world.

(In one, I am a part of communities:
My church, my school, my home.

I am known by my relations:
I am not my own,
And there is no choice about that.

But in the other world, I am alone.
I have friends, yes; I have communities,
But I represent myself.

Myself and my nation.
I am a foreigner.
An ambassador.
And I am proud to be,

But I am more a citizen of my country here
In this land that is not my own
Than I ever am in the land that I call home.)

I am differently known in different worlds,
And I traverse the two often.

It is easy to get lost in between.

Sometimes I lose myself there,
Between the two.

They say we are who we are seen to be.
But if that is true,
Then once those who see me change,

I change also.

And if I am always changing,
Who can I say I am but
Different all the time?

But if there is one,
Just One who sees me,
And by whom I choose to be seen,
Then I am forever who He sees me to be.

And so it is that with Christ,
I have found stability.
I have found security.
I have found identity.

I have found myself.

And though the things around me change,
Places, names, seasons, and faces,
I am lost no more.

So they will ask me if I miss home.

But as long as I am found in Christ,
I tell them,
I am always home.

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