My daughter recently walked the Camino de Santiago, journeying from Portugal up to the northwest corner of Spain where the St. James (Santiago) Cathedral dominates the city of Compostela. Upon return she gave a beautiful coffee coaster made of porcelain tiles. Each small tile is distinct, no two being the same. I love it.
Wondering whether the coaster was
made in Portugal or Spain, I turned it over to read the small print on the
back. I learned that the company is in Asturias, Spain, but that the coaster
itself was made in—you guessed it!—China.
I struggle with the question many
people here in the retirement center ask—where are you from? I don’t
always know how to answer. I’ve lived in so many places. I was born in Iowa;
grew up in Iowa, Arizona, and Southern California; went to college in Oregon;
and spent a good number of my adult years in Bolivia and other Latin American
countries. But really, I’m from Oregon where I now live.
Or am I?
Like the coaster, it’s hard to
tell. I had to turn the coaster over and read the fine print.
Please don’t turn me over to find out where I’m from.
Truth be told, I still live there.
The Old Testament prophet Moses tell us that the Lord has been our dwelling
place throughout all generations (Psalm 90:1). In the New Testament we read
that we are to abide in (live, dwell, sink deep into) Christ (John 15). If
we’re following the footsteps of Jesus, that’s where we live, no matter where
we make our bed.
And someday, in a new and living
sense, I’ll return to my beginnings. I’ll go home, back to the heart of God,
but in a deeper, more experiential way. Physically as well as spiritually.
Considering my beginnings, I’m
“older than the hills,” as the saying goes. But considering my destiny, I’m
just getting started.
I’m so much younger than I look.
No comments:
Post a Comment