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    "Home is where the heart is."

   A commonly said phrase, but I don't think people really understand the other side of this.

   It's crippling sometimes.

   Missing someone or a place so much. And it's made even worse by the fact that you know you can't do anything about it for the time being.

   It's crazy how much you can take something for granted or not realize how much you love it until it's miles and miles away.

    Sure you can travel around the world and take your home wherever you go.

   But what happens when you leave a little piece of your heart somewhere you've stayed? What if the place you've left most of it is across the ocean with your loved ones?

   So many memories have been flooding my mind the past weeks. Summer time spent in the glorious sun of Portland, having adventures with friends. Running down the sidewalk in front of our house as a young girl, scraped knees and bare feet.

   Homesick.

   My heart longs for the place I grew up in. For the familiar smells, sounds. For the comfort of my parent's presence and love. For friends that I hold close in my heart.

   Sure home is where the heart is, but I think God has been trying to teach me a little something about this lately. Maybe that it's more important to find home in Him, to stay centered in that. Because who knows where you'll end up next week or next year. It may not be where you wanted it to be.

   I'm the living testament of this. I promised myself I wouldn't be staying in Denmark another year.

   And yet.. here I am.

   So here I am, longing for my home, for the place I know so well. Torn between where I'd rather be, and where I know I'm supposed to be right now. Having to depend on His comfort rather than my parent's.

   It's been a cruel process, but a necessary one right now I think.



    Learning to make my home in Him..