We Are All Wanderers

When I was a child I used to give my poor mother fits.  I wouldn't cooperate, I was (am) loud, and I would always go off somewhere without her knowing.  When my family was still living in Grand Haven I snuck out on our front porch.  Such was my ambition to escape that my parents had to put a gate up outside my door, at the top of the stairs, and one at the bottom of the stairs.  I climbed them all.  After a few escapes onto the front porch, past a locked and deadbolted door, my dad installed a hook latch at nearly the top corner of the door.  One morning my parents woke to find a broom on the floor that I had used to flip that hook that was attempting to keep me from my adventure.  


I am a wanderer.


My big conviction today is the idea of how far I wander from my first love!  I became a Christian when I was four, I don't even remember it.  I could tell you the time that it became real to me.  I may just keep that as something special between God and I, time will tell.  In our group we talk about sacred time.  We also talk about how God is closer in some spaces than others.  I would like to add another facet to this concept.  I think that there are sometimes where our hearts are warmed to God more or less.  I suppose we are all wanderers.  I am trying to posture myself at the feet of the manger over this Advent season.  I want to learn to truly love!  This is to be my constant position.  Close enough to hear the baby Christ coo.  


All wanderers can come home.