Empty Spaces–When longing and yearning and aching are a good way to be.

 

crying-kids04

Empty spaces.

I’m not talking about the ones between my teeth.

It’s a hollow crevice somewhere within our secret self. A mining shaft of loneliness.

Toss in a penny and listen as the echo of its clatter spirals lower and lower,

Farther and farther away.

I get it. Even though I’m

  1. United with my husband body, soul and spirit.
  2. Bonded to my children with a mother’s heart.
  3. Connected with a community of believers.

It’s not enough.

It was never meant to be.

Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night. Shaken and restless.

It’s as if a homing device has been activated. My senses long something I cannot define.

Sometimes,

  • it’s a song that ambushes my emotions
  • or a glimpse of windswept sky that penetrates my complacency.

The ache starts, way down inside the chasm of my being.

For a few seconds, the truth emerges like a phantom and whispers,

You are not complete.

Creeped out?

Don’t be.

It’s a good thing. This ache.

This feeling-like-a-homesick-kid

  • On the top bunk
  • In a cabin
  • Wondering if he will ever get home.

“The only ultimate disaster that can befall us…is to feel ourselves to be home on earth.”

wrote Max Lucado in a blog post called

Longing for Heaven: Going Home to God,

“As long as we are aliens, we cannot forget our true homeland.”

Our homeland.

Heaven.

Go ahead.

Yearn for a connection that cannot be satisfied on earth.

Ache for the day when

  • the presence of God
  • will reach into the bottom of our bottomless pit
  • and touch the deepest part of us.

It’s a good thing.

To long for home.

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