Funny how we are happiest with our normal, whatever that might be.
I'm thinking of immigrants fleeing North Africa at this time. It has to be really hard for them, understanding they'd rather be where their home is as well. Maybe they want a better life, and they are fleeing death. I imagine, however, they are lonely and longing for home. I hope they can come home, in their hearts
at the very least, to the one that made them, no matter where they wander. I am thinking and understanding a little as I travel from place to place, their journey is not an easy one.
I am currently making a series of collages, forming a puzzle, based on the parable about coming home- the parable of the prodigal son. The home-coming in the story is really about coming home to the Father's heart. One son does, one son doesn't.
I hope I can portray it well in the collages I make. To show I have come home to the Father's heart. To be continued.