Home

I'm taking this great class with a focus on Jewish Literature, even more focused on the ideas of home and exile. Our professor had us do a free write today for about twenty minutes on the idea of home-where we feel at home, what it is like, etc. Then we were to write about a place that we have visited that had an impact or was special in our lives. Here is what I wrote:

The meaning of home is solid and yet fluid, can mean the place I grew up or the place I sleep at night. Generally it means a place where the people I love reside, where I can also love.
My dad always says that home is where the toothbrush is. In that case, I've got at least two, maybe up all the way to four. One in Rohnert Park, two in OrangeVale, and maybe one in Santa Clarita.
If this truly is the case, I've had many homes, the most recent being in McDermitt, Nevada. Six weeks in the desert on an Indian Reservation, the classroom where my coworkers and I slept certainly was home. We slept there, we escaped the noisy campers, we got some quiet and sanity there. It was not home forever, but certainly a good season.
I won't have a permanent home here on Earth. I was not meant to stay here, and I don't want to either. When I have the knowledge of a place where the streets are made of gold and a King reigns forevermore, why would I ever desire to stay on earth? No, my home is in heaven with Jesus. I've seen Jesus my Lord, and desire nothing more but to be with Him.