Home Is Where My People Are: The Roads That Lead Us to Where We Belong by Sophie Hudson

Author:Sophie Hudson [Hudson, Sophie]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3, mobi, pdf
ISBN: 9781414392080
Publisher: Tyndale House Publishers, Inc.
Published: 2015-01-16T08:00:00+00:00

I would love to tell you that life was one big praise-and-worship chorus after my road trip in the Crown Victoria, but it wasn’t. I still didn’t have real community or true accountability, and I can’t even say I had a genuine desire to turn from “the sin that so easily entangles” (Hebrews 12:1, NIV). I continued to hold tightly to the parts of my life where I didn’t want God to have any say—lest He ask more of me than I was willing to give.

The illusion of control is a powerful thing.

It was a couple of weeks before the Eagle was out of the shop, and when I drove back to Myrtlewood, I found that I was a little reluctant to return the Crown Victoria to Daddy. Granted, nobody would have looked at his car and commented on its beauty, but it was sturdy and it was solid, and I knew firsthand that it was a safe place to be if you happened to be caught in a storm.

As soon as I sat in my car, though, I felt like I was home. The seat belt thingy still didn’t work just right, and I knew it was only a matter of time before the engine overheated. I pushed a few buttons and levers to make sure the air and lights were working, and when I accidentally flipped on the turn signal, I noticed that its delightful, rhythmic chime had taken on a frantic quality, almost like a panicked little bird.

It was just one more thing to add to the list—and it made me laugh. Every once in a while, I reckon, broken stuff starts to feel downright comfortable.

The Screamin’ Eagle and I made it back to my apartment without incident. I was grateful for it, but I knew better than to think that all our issues were behind us. History is a mighty good teacher, and that car had proved that it was high maintenance and unreliable over and over again.

But then again, so had I.

It didn’t really make any sense, but for whatever reason, I continued to love that car—as much as a person can love a big hunk of metal and plastic, at least.

And you know what else didn’t make any sense? The fact that, for whatever reason, God continued to love me.

But I’m so thankful that I knew He did.

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