My family and I returned home yesterday from a week long vacation to the coast. We saw otters and seals playing in the surf at high tide. We saw lovely shells and weather that reached 70 degrees most days. We saw deer and a young buck grazing in people’s yards along the road. We saw an almost 100 year old castle – Hearst Castle – to be exact. Chris and I reminisced about our honeymoon and our beginning years of marriage while finding a place to eat in the seaside town of Cambria, our honeymoon destination 18 years ago. Lots of fun. Lots of relaxation. Lots of days filled with nothing.
Lots of time to read (I got two and a half books finished).
Lots of time to think.
I’m grateful for the time but I’m so glad to be home. Acclimating is always tough. As my friend, Cheryl, over at copperswife says, “Re-entry is THE PITS!”. That it is, friend!
My mind naturally craves more time at the ocean. More time to rest and relax. Yet, I know that is not what my body truly aches for. As lovely and peaceful as the ocean is, it will not fill the hole in my heart that longs for home. Yes, home in Sacramento where my dog and cat await and where I hang pictures of my family. But my forever home too.
Home with a capital H. My Home that nothing here on earth can replace. My heart longs for a Home where its walls and its foundations are not threatened by the enemy’s tactics to steal, kill, and destroy. The Home that is not vulnerable to the slings and arrows that can so entangle us. My Home that knows every hair on my head and knows my name. My Home that has love flowing through unconditionally no matter how I measure up. Or don’t. The Home that thinks I am worth the ultimate sacrifice for. The Home that thinks YOU are worth it too.
Sometimes, vacations, as much as I love them, make me long for my real Home.