Tonight as I was walking home around 9:00pm, I saw my first real Christmas tree of the year. It was on the fourth floor, standing in a big window. I could only see the size of the tree and the white twinkling lights. But it was beautiful! It reminded me of the big Christmas tree with red ornaments and ribbons and white lights at my Aunt Rita and Uncle Welden’s house. I stopped for a few minutes just to look, and remember…it felt like home. And I don’t mean home as in where I grew up, I mean home as in a feeling of peace.
You may not believe it, but sometimes as I’m shopping for groceries, or walking by myself on the narrow winding cobble-stoned streets to the church, I forget that I’m a foreigner. That I’m, “out of place.” That’s how normal and natural it is to be here. Haha, and other times, I have bright neon-blinking reminders that I’m an ex-pat. But the fact is, again and again, I’ve seen the Lord confirm His place for me here. A good friend sent me an e-mail the other day reminding me that if He calls, He will provide. That’s so true. And anyway, what is home (literally speaking)? Not Spain, or the States, or any other place on the earth. Heaven.
I think something I am learning is that sometimes I need to be more broken than I need to be well. That maybe I need to be more hungry that I need to be fed. That maybe I need to be more desperate and dependent on God than I am content.
May His shed blood make me
more thankful for thy mercies,
more humble under thy correction,
more zealous in thy service,
more watchful against temptation,
more contented in my circumstances,
more useful to others.
Taken from “Deliverance” in The Valley of Vision by Arthur Bennett