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In August, I had to move out of the house I had lived in for 24 years. On moving day all my dishes were packed and I had no food in the house, so I went to the Café @ St. Stephen’s to get breakfast. As I drank my coffee, I felt forlorn. Every room in my house was piled high with boxes; I no longer lived there. Every room in my new apartment was empty; I didn’t live there yet. There was nowhere that I belonged.
As I left to meet the movers, I walked past the large fellowship hall. I looked out the window and saw the door to the sanctuary, the benches, the trees and shrubs, and I had a burst of astonishing realization: here! St. Stephen’s—I belong here!
My new apartment is a pleasant and welcoming place, and yet it still often seems like I’m a visitor here. In this season of new beginnings, of waiting to see what’s going to unfold, I can rest in the waiting, confident that I will soon feel at home in my new place. And I can wait patiently, since I still live close to St. Stephen’s. When I feel like a stranger in a strange land, I can go worship or drink coffee or meet a friend in the place where I belong.
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