**Note: I wrote this blog over a month ago upon returning from my visit to Hawaii, but I am only posting it now.
There's no place like home.
It's been almost four years since I've stepped foot onto the soil of America's paradise called Hawaii. The 80 degrees of its humid air, combined with the tropical breeze that so gently hits you when you land, is priceless. The palm trees and the bright blue sky are a breath of fresh air. The sunlight beckons to kiss your skin, and you welcome it.
"Please, give me rest," you ask the sun. Your chin is lifted up and your eyes begin to close softly to the warm embrace of the Hawaiian sun. You take a deep breath, and the stillness of the moment is peace and calm amongst the busyness that is commotion around you. A sigh, and deep relief. "I'm home."
It is where the heart is.
There is something so deeply real about going home. And not just home, but to a place where life had been lived years ago, only to find this past life a vapor in the wind. A mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes (James 4:14). For me it is also a place of humble, humble, beginnings. I was only beginning to walk, and only beginning to see the vastness of God's gracious character and his sanctification in my life. I can only reminisce about the good parts when I am not there, and imagine the beauty of the oceans there, the deep and light hues of blue combined with majestic waves that move them. The grandness of the mountains and exotic flowers that never stop growing. The comfort of the sun scorching your body while you lie paralyzed on the sand after an adventurous session with the sea.
But something changed as I stepped off of the plane last month. I had heard God's voice before, but it was so very clear this time. Hawaii is no longer my home. The first time I had heard it I weeped uncontrollably in the car on the way to the airport. Last month I came and I felt very little connection to the island. I came as a tourist this time, and my heart became almost hardened to this place, a place I once knew and loved and called my home. Life does not live on there for me, now. How intensely odd it is.
I remember driving and not knowing my way around anymore; not recognizing streets I had driven on hundreds of times before. I remember driving by a place I used to live and it having no meaning to me. I had an apathy towards it all. I certainly didn't care. I wanted to go back to Portland soon.
I felt restless. And it was an agonizing kind of restlessness.
Why did I choose to live on elsewhere? This place, Hawaii, has so much meaning to me. It is, and has been the essence of my life -- being from Hawaii almost defined me. It was a part of who I was. I used to love driving in slightly horrible traffic while listening to Hawaiian reggae, I loved the ghetto bus stops and graffiti, the humidity, the gigantic asian population, and spam musubi's. I loved every single Japanese tourist and loved hating the caucasian ones. I embraced the fact that I grew up on the 'aina.
I'm not sure where I stand anymore. I'm just not quite certain.
Where is home, exactly?
Going back reminds me of what looking forward means. Where will "home" be next? Does home even exist here on earth? If heaven is our home, when we get there will we ever look back and think that the earth was the most amazing place? How could I experience and embrace this tropical paradise and look back and say, "meh." I can't imagine being with Jesus for eternity and looking towards earth and sighing in fond memories, rather than embracing the magnificence of the streets made of gold. I imagine heaven to be much more. Heaven must be so glorious. So majestic. So beautiful. To look on Jesus' face all the time? Ah! How could we look upon our lives now and miss it when we get to be in His presence all the time? This world shares with us a few glimpses of heaven, but oh, how earth is always a downhill of broken dreams and selfish endeavors.
There is a lot of pain and grief in this world. We are all slowly dying by the minute, physically. People die everyday. There is sickness and disease, violence, anger, disaster, destruction. I am anxious to live where there will be no more tears, no sickness or pain, but where there is a deep, meaningful joy and celebration in worship. Contentment.
To be with Jesus.
To be home.
