Coming Home

I was chatting via Facebook today with two dear friends, Jill (lower right), my former roommate in Morocco and Judy(left), my friend who understood my sense of humor, who are vacationing in Malaga, Spain. We have all taught in Morocco, and our escapes to Europe have made the time in Morocco extra special. I know friends who are in Portugal or Rome right now, as well, on Spring vacation. Those special weekends or even week away made the unusualness, the differentness of Morocco more manageable to our western sensibilities.

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.