For a while, I thought it was just my feet that were restless–that sense of discomfort that hits when I’ve been in a place too long. It quickens my heart and sometimes even sends me into a craze that involves searching for plane tickets, new jobs, and sometimes even packing.
But I realized today it wasn’t my feet that were restless–a brisk walk in the fresh air could take care of that.
It is my soul that is restless.
As I was driving home today, I gazed at the dark outline of the Redding mountains against a backdrop of fading blue, and my heart both quickened and ached all at once.
Inevitably, a country I once refused to claim and a city I was eager to leave have become a part of that tapestry that makes up home for me.
And yet, my heart is so torn between the countless places that have become home, and more so, the people–hearts filled with love that invite me to be completely myself.
I find the restlessness of the soul stems not only from the inability to fall back on deep roots in a place but actually emerge out of the soul’s knowing that it wasn’t made for this earth.
My soul is restless for its home, resting eternally in the loving embrace of the One who has won my heart with His unfailing love.
And so my soul lets out a sigh, both in resignation to the inevitably journey ahead but also with expectation because that journey is slowly but surely leading me home.