The Whir of the Door

They are doing construction in the gravel parking lot in front of our home, so I’m hearing new noises as I write. I was partway through my word count today when a noise startled me–not because it was loud, but because it reminded me of something. It took me some time to locate the noise in my mind: it sounded like our garage door opening in Rowlett, TX.

I nearly cried!

There are things I miss that seem obvious and blatant: friends, affordability, familiarity. But there are times when something like this make me miss silly things. The sound of our garage door in Texas reminded me that my husband was home from Dallas Seminary or work. Remembering the sound made me miss our home and the life we had there. The bus picked our children up for school right in front of our house. The kids rode to a school where they’d hear English all day long, with a smattering of Spanish. I could walk outside and chat idly with the neighbors. I would understand them. They would understand me.

I had acquaintances I could talk to. I could go to the store and have a casual conversation with the check out clerk as she bagged my groceries (ahhhhhh, I remember). Though I am still well-connected with my friends in the states, I’m incredibly lonely because I lack the day-to-day bantering of casual friends. My French is simply not that good.

So today I’m missing home again. Missing the crazy garage door sound. Missing checkout ladies who speak in English. Missing every single room of my house, especially the laundry ROOM and a big pantry. I miss my yard and the raised-garden-beds my husband lovingly constructed for me.

I love you Jesus. I do. But sometimes I yearn for home. Help me to be content in today. I pray the reminder of the garage door will simply make me cling to You more. You are my home. You are my home.

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