Almost Home

Home. Just say the word, and memories, images, and emotions flood the heart, mind, and soul. What does home mean to you? What does it look like? A safe space? Or a place you long to leave? In our early ministry years, my husband, Michael, and I experienced homelessness. We felt led to step away from pastoral ministry to enter a ministry in music—a step of faith. We exchanged our house for a secondhand sixteen-foot camper and hit the road with some good friends to share Jesus with the world. And though they did not say it, I know we left our parents scratching their heads and wondering, What in the world? Oh! The stories we could tell! In the winter we would wake up in the morning to find a glass of water frozen on the nightstand. At church an envelope slipped into a pocket, and it contained enough money to fill our gas tank. Bags of groceries were left anonymously at the door of our camper when our cupboards were bare. So many stories! When we stepped away from music ministry, we had nowhere to go. Literally. We sold our camper, and a friend opened her door to let us in.

We stayed in her guest room for months as we tried to find our footing. We were homeless. Alone. And lonely. We had stepped out in faith, for goodness sake; surely our story should contain the words and they lived happily ever after.

But it did not. We were poor, homeless newlyweds with no pathway back home. One night, while fighting discouragement and tears, I slipped into the circle of Michael’s arms. As I lay my head against his chest, I knew this much was true. “This is my home,” I whispered. “Right here in your arms.” For the first time I realized home is more than bricks and mortar, picket fences, and window boxes filled with flowers. Home could be found within the arms of the one I loved—the one who loved me. If you are facing homelessness, my friend, whether literal or spiritual, know this: “The eternal God is your dwelling place, and underneath are [His] everlasting arms” (Deuteronomy 33:27, ESV). Home is found within the arms of the One who loves you. Lean into Him, and know that all will be well. As we remain in Him, our stories will ultimately testify, “and they lived happily ever after.” Hold on! We are almost home!

Karen Pearson