Same song, thirty-third verse.

Mostly I live my days wrapped up in the comings and goings of my little family. We eat our breakfast and laugh at our silliness; we do the laundry and snuggle at nap time; we make crafts and watch TV and cook dinner; we squeal when Daddy gets home and rest quietly after 8 pm. Occasionally we Skype with a family member afar or play with friends or venture out into the world. Then we wake up and do it all again – just the 4 of us. Almost every day this is enough. I almost never think about what I or my family is missing.

Then I run into a bout of homesickness that makes me want to throw the routine out the window, the kids in the car, and the budget to the wind. I find my whole self aching for a cozy chat with my Mama and my sister, an afternoon shopping with my Gran, a morning crafting with my Gra’ma, a weekend relaxing with my mother-in-law. I move through my day as usual but all the while I’m thinking of how badly I want to hold my best friend’s new baby or hug the neck of an old friend as she valiantly fights through loss or laugh until my sides hurt with the people who knew me before I was a real grown-up.

I try to hide it because the battle is the same one I’ve been fighting for nearly five years now, and we all grow weary of hearing the same song, thirty-third verse. I am so very weary of it. So, in the quiet of the morning I look at Jesus with tears in my eyes.  I ask, once again, if things could please be different, but only if different is what He wants for us. He nods in acknowledgement of my pain and rubs my back for a few minutes. He lifts my head and dries my tears and we walk through another day.

I used to feel frustrated that these bouts of homesickness kept coming back and sabotaging my days, but now, when I remember to look at Jesus, I see them as a gift of intimacy with Him. He knows my every ache and sees my every tear. When the rest of the world grows weary of my sad little song, He welcomes the tune of a heart bent towards Him.

I don’t mean that this is an excuse to feel defeated or hold high the banner of the victim. I only mean that it’s okay to voice the hurt to the One who can do something about it and look for ways to glorify Him through the ache. We don’t have to pretend that the ache isn’t there.

What’s your ache today? Have you been telling Jesus about it? That really is the only solution. You can’t change your circumstances and no one else can offer you much advice at all that will soothe it. Jesus can. Give it a try. He doesn’t disappoint.

2 thoughts on “Same song, thirty-third verse.

  1. My dear sweet Emily,

    You are blessed beyond words with your gift of expressing yourself so honestly. I just want you to know that you made my heart fill with joy to know that one of your homesick "missings" is an afternoon of shopping with Gran. You never know how the small things in life that you do with children or grandchildren stays with them forever. Remember that you are doing these things right now! I love you. Gran

  2. My ache is much the same as yours. Before I reached the end of your "thirty-third verse", I was having difficulty seeing through the tears.

    I know that I know that God brought me to this place, but it's just so far from family and I miss them all.

    On most days I go through the day enjoying the beautiful views of the lake, checking FB and e-mail for family news, helping David with various tasks, enjoying the fellowship of the Quilters & Crafters group every Tuesday, etc. etc. Then I read something my sweet granddaughter wrote and the "missing family" mood hits me broadside.

    Love and Hugs,

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