Homesickness

I'm back at the Cathedral City and it almost feels the same as it did when I first came down here. The usual texture of sudden, delicate and unfounded uncertainty bleached my pallet of any fickle security. Even with London two, maybe three hours away it takes exact effect. Maybe it doesn't matter how far away you are from where you call home for some kind of loneliness to take a sightless hold on the senses.

Maybe it isn't the distance at all, as it was the first step towards a new place that cuts a person off from the old place. And the familiar silhouette - ignorance of the destination - waits on ahead to be filled. But there was one event that recently happened that reminded me that no one has to feel this way.

Last night, when I was packing my suitcase again to leave my parents' house, they told me that my granddad had just died. At first I reacted in a similar way to when my other granddad had died two years ago from the same illness (cancer; who hasn't got it these days?). There was no reaction whatsoever. Not a blink. Maybe it was because I had already accepted and mourned their death when they were still on this side of living.

But the reason I draw strength is the reason why this time I feel I must rejoice. Whilst waiting in the hospice for death to come, he was drawn to the cross on the wall. He gave his life to Jesus shortly afterwards. At the most critical time he chose God and I can look forward to seeing him with those I love in heaven. This brings me to my main point: since the start of my Christian walk, I have known of where I will end up: heaven. So how can I feel aimless and remote? My path leads one way, along a difficult but albeit narrow road. Hallelujah! So my steps will be dictated accordingly.

All of a sudden I don't feel uncertain.