It is easy for me to feel homeless where I live. Not in the literal sense of the word, I have a roof over my head, food to eat and people around that support me. But as an unqualified, confused 18 year old who moved to Haiti trying her best listen and respond to God, home becomes a touchy subject.
For a while I had refused to call Haiti or America home, because I didn’t feel like I completely belonged to either. I felt bitterness building in my heart every time I saw my peers know where they are, where they’ve been and where they’re going. Generally people my age don’t have to think twice about what address they put down when they have to fill out forms at the doctor’s office.
As I was talking to God about this, asking “Why?” so many times, he comforted me. The end of Isaiah 43:1 was said over and over in my head “I have called you by name, you are mine”.
Peace coursed through me as I remembered where my home is. He comforts me, knows me, and calls me by name. God is waiting for me and He reveals a world of color and adventure with Him that I couldn’t have dreamt more beautifully. He not only has called me His, but he has called me home.