When I was little, I used to dream about and play it. I’d bring out my dollies and tea cups and play food, and pretend that I was a mommy and wife. I had to make dinner and rock the baby to sleep. And I loved it. I couldn’t wait for the day when it would be real.
At thirteen, the dollies and pretend food were quite gone but the desire remained. No, it came back even stronger. I remember holding my then one-year-old cousin and thinking of the day that I would have my own baby. I dreamed of and planned my wedding. And I thought of my husband often. In fact, I used to spend nights and days and any quiet times talking to him. Yes, talking to him. Did I know him? Not that I knew of. But in my dreams he and home were ever-present.
One day though, this castle of dreams crumbled. It wasn’t just one thing that made it happen but quite a few scattered events and realizations. It was the “friends” who crushed my view on femininity and a future home. It was the boy I wanted but could not have and the fear that no one would ever want to marry me. And most of all, it was the deep desire burning in my soul that could not be filled no matter how hard I dreamed or tried to imagine. Suddenly, this place called home became a miserable place for my mind.
Recently though, my thoughts have returned to that once-happy place where my mind liked to be. I’ve gone through a lot since then: grief and suffering, hurt, revisions, and new-found joy. Somehow, all of these things have patched the wounds of the lonely heart longing for home. Now, I can finally feel a longing for this place again.
And I find my thoughts wandering to it often. When I lie in bed, while I’m answering Biology questions, in the sad scene of my play, home is with me. Once again, this desire is strong. In fact, I think it’s even stronger than before. Perhaps it’s because I know what it is to not want it or think that I didn’t want it, and to come back restored. Sometimes its worse though, knowing that I am close to home but so far from it.
But then, I don’t really know what God has planned. Perhaps this place called home is coming soon or maybe it isn’t at all. While that last thought is hard to grasp, I have learned to be content. I know that as much as I would love this place called home, that I don’t need a husband and family to make me happy. Because I have God and He loves me. He contents me and fills the space in my heart, now and forever. Yet He gives me this dream, this longing, this desire for home. And I believe that in His good timing and with His best desire, He shall fill it when the time is right.
Note: I often write posts and leave them in the draft section for a while. This post is one of them. I wrote it back in November, but never published it. Due to a bit of “blogger’s block” this week and the fact that these feelings have been even more on my mind than ever (as I consider my life and what to do with it), I decided to publish it today.