Over the last few weeks I can't help but think about what home means to me. A lot of people, when hearing I'm Ugandan by birth (though I'm not Ugandan by nationality), have asked if I miss 'home'. Home is a word that has kinda lost its meaning to me. I left Uganda four years ago, knowing that the chances were slim that I'd go back to Uganda, to live there long term. The reasons are simple. My parents left Uganda soon after I did. My mum and my siblings moved to South Africa within two weeks of me leaving and my dad moved at the beginning of 2013. When my dad joined the rest of my family, the house I'd spent almost 13 years of my life living in was rented out, and my parents moved all the furniture out. The dogs were given to a friend of a friend. The home I grew up in is no longer my home. Most of my friends have also left... yes, I do dream of going back to Uganda. I miss the life I had there. The drama and the excitement of daily life that I had there. In four years, I've only been back to Uganda once, almost two years ago, for just under a month. I don't know if I'll ever go back. Not only because I don't know what I'd do there, but also I don't have anyone to return to... now that my family live in South Africa. Maybe when my parents move back to Uganda I'll be able to visit more, but I don't know if I'd stay longer than just a visit. It depends on where God takes me next... after this internship is finished, as I'm still not sure what that step is. I've still got a few months before I need to know the next step.
Since I left Uganda I've been traveling for the last few years. Since I left Uganda, I've never stayed in one place longer than a year and three months. Its hard when people ask where my home is because my home is wherever I'm currently living at. The town where my parents live isn't my home. My time there was an extremely difficult time for me because I was waiting for the next step to become clear to me. I really want to settle down somewhere and put my roots down, but I want to put my roots down where God wants me to be... where I know that there's something for me to do without having a time limit hanging over my head. Everywhere I've lived (save for London) I've had a time stamp hanging above my head. Everywhere I've lived over the last few years I always knew it was temporary... hard as its become. I'm becoming tired of traveling around. I've become tired of knowing that I'm going to have to pack up all my staff after a few months, to travel again. I really want to settle down and have somewhere I can call home. Because of all this moving around, home is wherever I currently live, even though its not always got the feel of being home. I call that place home because I sleep there. I'll try to make the place feel like home by hanging different items about and unpacking as quickly as possible, because otherwise I'll struggle settling in properly.
Its also caused me to realize that my home isn't a house, a city or a country but four very special people, my parents and siblings. God has given them to me and I'm so grateful for the blessing they are in my life, despite them being so far away