The Way Home. Itineraries like this one appear at intervals in my journals over the last few years, detailing the trains, planes and buses needed to deliver me safely back to a little village in Germany. I’ve called them The Way Home, even on the earliest adventures, in autumn of 2010, when I’d just moved to this village hemmed in by high, green hills.
I first left home in 2010, flying away from the coffee and rain-soaked Pacific Northwest in pursuit of calling and adventure in Kandern, Germany, where I’d be a teacher at Black Forest Academy. Years later I’m a teacher still, but also a wife, a mentor, a coach, a baker, a potter, a writer and a friend.
And home? In this place of constant changes, I’ve grown to call many places home. The earthy practicality of this small German town, nestled between forests and vineyards. The spare, traditional grandeur of an Austrian hamlet at the base of the Alps. The native language of bicycles, books and coffee that makes Seattle my point of origin, even now. In each conversation with our ever-moving students, I hear it again and again: home is either nowhere, or everywhere. I choose everywhere.
Because, as I wrote at the beginning of this journey, “even the ninth graders know that home isn’t a building or a city; Abraham learned that it wasn’t a country or even a family. Home is Christ. And in pursuit of home I’ll go anywhere, for however long it takes to get there.”
I am thankful for this home, this time, this place. More than that, however, I’m thankful for the faithful calling of Christ, which will continue to lead us, whether here or elsewhere, to glorify Him as we grow in marriage, in vocation and in service to His kingdom.