Feeling Homeless

This past month I have been thinking a lot about home. Where is my home? What is my home? Honestly, at this point, I have no idea. It has been one year and four months since we moved to Honduras. Considering the fact that I lived the first 31.5 years of my life in the U.S., is not a very long time. There are days when it feels like we have been in Honduras forever and days when it feels like we have just arrived. But, where is my home? Is it in the U.S., the place where I have spent most of my life? Or is it in this new country, that so often feels strange and foreign, but yet so familiar and certain?
I feel so different now than I do when we moved last January. Time has changed me. Experiences have changed me. The changes that I see might not be obvious on the outside, but in my heart, they feel colossal. Things that were important to me then, seem insignificant now. Insignificant things then, seem colossal now. Life in Honduras has changed me.
One huge change is in my cooking. Because of all of the allergies that my girls have and the lack of resources here, I have started to cook most things from scratch. I have started to enjoy cooking (say what?!). Someone told me, within the last month, that I am a good cook. A year ago, I would've laughed at this thought. Today, it feels normal, like something I was always meant to do.
But, I digress ...
Where is home? When I think about going home, where do I think of? I don't think I have one anymore. My family of origin and I are so close. Most days, I miss them so much that it hurts. I long to be with them, living life with them. But, when I think about the possibility of someday moving back to live where they are, I feel joyful at the possibility of being where they are, but I also feel confused because that place no longer feels like home. I have changed: I'm different now. That home no longer fits exactly who I am.
So, then, is Honduras home? My family is here. My house is here. My things are here. My girls are in a routine here. I cook and clean and live here. This is familiar and home for now, yet, somehow, it doesn't feel like home either. Though I have changed and feel like I don't really fit back in the States, I also don't really fit here: my Spanish is still broken, I will never fully understand this culture, I will never be Honduran. Every day I learn more about this culture and assimilate further, but I will always be a foreigner. So, this home still doesn't really fit either.
When we thought about moving to Honduras, we thought a lot about how the move would effect our girls. We knew that it would have benefits and drawbacks. They don't really fit into this Honduran culture and yet they don't really fit into the American culture. Missionary kids are often referred to as third culture kids meaning that they don't really have a culture that they fit into. They are, in a way, culture-less and homeless.
This is something that I had thought about and prayed over for the girls, but wasn't really something that I had given thought to in regards to myself. I assumed that home would always be where home has always been. I have been so surprised to find myself feeling like a third culture adult. I feel homeless, in a way. I feel like no place truly fits me.
So often, I ask the Lord why He brought us to Honduras. I ask Him about His plans and remind Him that I feel confused about His plans for me. But, as I have been thinking and praying this month, I keep coming back to this idea of home and feeling displaced. The Lord has been slowly showing me that this is part of His plan and His purpose. He has plans to use me here in Honduras, yes, but He also has plans to change my heart and to make it and me into something and someone that will glorify Him. So, maybe one of the reasons I am in Honduras is to show me this feeling of homelessness; to allow to me sit in it and live it and experience it. To experience it so that at some point in my life I can better love someone who is homeless too. To experience it so that I can better love my girls when at some point they are overwhelmed with feeling like a third culture kid. But mostly, I think He wants me to experience it so that I will long for Heaven, my true home. Longing for Heaven sounds so cliche or like such a typical "Christian" answer. I was raised in a Christian home, school, church ... I've been around it all so much and sometimes I get callous to the basics of my faith and I take things for granted. Saying that I long for Heaven can sound so "overly Christian". I get so distracted by life and things in front of me that longing for Heaven seems impossible. And the thing is, that is ridiculous. He is what matters. He is the only thing worth living for. He is my all and my everything. Of course He wants me to long for Heaven, because that's all thats worth living for AND that is the only place that I am ever truly going to feel at home.
So, I think that right now, that's what this Honduras thing is about for me. It's about missing family and home and feeling out of place so that I will long for the only place and the only One who can ever really fill me and make me feel at home.

- Katie