Thomas Wolfe once wrote, “You can’t go home again.”
But we tried.
My two sisters, Rosa and Virginia, our brother Clayton, and I returned to our old home in China in May 1980.
I recalled those spiritual giants of my childhood: We visited Uncle Jimmy and Aunt Sophie’s old house (now a wholesale grocery outlet), the girls’ school where Lucy Fletcher had tutored us, the hospital compound (now an industrial school). So familiar, so changed. Our old home was graciously emptied for our inspection. Behind the welcoming banner stood all that was left – a pathetic reminder of the home that was – like an old woman, no longer loved or cared for.
We even located the Chinese house in which I was born.
For me it was like a death and a resurrection. Sentimental feelings for the place, nurtured lovingly over the decades, died. I realized afresh that God’s work is not in buildings but in transformed lives.
Buildings fall into decay and eventually disappear. The transformed life goes on forever.
Prayer for the Day
Father, I am grateful to know I have a home with You forever because of my faith in Your Son. Help me to keep an eternal perspective about this life.