I've only got minutes before my ride comes to pick me up. Its the end of the semester and I'm going home. For some of my friends this is a weekend experience. But, for me, it only happens once or maybe twice a year. This is a big day.
By the time I return to my apartment on campus, I will have spend two weeks in Washington DC, a few days near Albany, NY, a possible side trip to Pittsburgh, PA and a two week stay in Managua, Nicaragua. My heart is starting to race faster when I think about these trip - each one has so much meaning in it - to be on a journey and to be going home.
When I get back, I'm hoping to leave again. I plan on trips to Seattle, WA and Atlanta, GA in January. Again, I'll pack my bags, check my e-ticket (for the third time), text message the weather forecast to my cell phone, and I'll head out on the journey. And then I'll come home again.
This rhythm of heading out and coming home might be speaking something to me about being the church. I can not avoid being sent. I can't avoid the journey. I must get ready, go, and come home. Each sending brings with it some fears and each one writes a chapter into my life that continually shapes who I am becoming.
The dishes are still piled up and the garbage must go out. Its time for me to go home, only to be sent again.
Tim
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