Manpri Phenom

(I wish to preface this entry with the observation that were I a French woman living in the USA, this post would be about brightly colored, odd-looking, rubber footwear in America)

Last week the family took a trip to a local amusement parks. By mid-day I realized that "thrill rides" no longer thrilled me. So I volunteered to hold the bag, rain jackets and camera as the rest of the crew rode "Thunder of Zeus". The wait was about an hour, so I passed the time snapping photos of grown men wearing capri pants--or manpris, if you will.

Ch ch ch changes

Changes, have been occuring around this household. My oldest son is reading Plato's Republic rather than rushing to complete the latest Harry Potter book. He also will acquire his first bus/train pass, learning to be more independent as he takes off for lycee this year. Second son shocked me earlier this year when he expressed his preference for the film "A Beautiful Mind" over the CGI extravaganza "Spiderman 3". He is also growing so rapidly that I feel like a dwarf next to him. The Princess is now tall enough to go on every roller coaster at Parc Asterix. When did that happen? Our sweet kitty has picked up the carniverous habit of depositing mice, living and dead in our bedroom, eeewwww. My handsome husband has become even more striking by growing a beard. Our cell phone provider gave me a new portable phone this week. It takes pictures, organizes my calendar and even works as a phone! Finally, the old used washing machine died. When the sparkly new one arrives tomorrow it will have a week's worth of work to do! Ain't life grand?

There's No Place Like Home

The kind lady turned to my children and asked them the question, "Where is home for you?" Such a simple, impossible question. After the usual awkward silence one child answers with conviction, "France." Number two follows with equal conviction, "Kansas". Precious child number three offers, "With my dog and my cat."

Driving across Kansas last Wednesday for the last time this furlough, I was enjoying the beautiful rolling hills and open spaces as I pondered this question. You would think that after 20 years of changing continents every few years that the question wouldn't still trip me up. On the one hand I'm an American, born and raised in Kansas. The place is so familiar. All of our family live there. Mom is even in the same house where I grew up. Every turn of the corner stirs up memories--yet--so much has changed about the place and about me.

Now we are back in Villabe, we've lived here for more than six years now. This place is also full of memories and important relationships--but I will never be fully at ease here either. I will never be fully French.

There are other places, people that I miss so much that it aches. Are any of those places "home"?

Inevitably as I ponder this issue the answer comes roaring to my mind. I am a pilgrim, an alien in this world. This life is a journey to our eternal home, feasting with Jesus, in the presence of God the Father, delighting in Him forever. I will continue to enjoy this journey, happy for God to teach me all He has for me along the way, wherever we live; but I won't forget that my final destination is in the Kingdom of God.