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.
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.