My Flight Home

“Dad, I want to come home.” A tear slid down my cheek as I choked back uncontrollable sobs. It had only been three hours – three hours of exhaustion and misery. After spending a semester abroad, I was finally coming home for the holidays, and it was my last flight before arriving in the states. Four months living in England and touring Europe had been incredible! Concerts, museums, cobblestone streets, dozens of pastry shops, gelato . . . it was all a dream, but I was ready to come home.

I leaned back in the stiff airport chair, my eyes burned due to lack of sleep. I’d already been up a full 24 hours and was looking at a 17-hour layover in Iceland.

“Dad, my phone battery is almost dead. I have to go.”

“I’m sorry, honey. Try to get some sleep. I’m praying for you. I love you!”

“Love you too, Dad.”

Sliding the phone in my purse, I pulled out a travel size pack of tissues. My tears soaked the soft tissue as I cried into empty, thin air. I had never felt so alone.

The last 14 hours of my layover consisted of crying and watching a security officer push luggage carts through automatic doors. He stared uncomfortably at my pale, tear-stained face as I awkwardly curled up in the corner. After hours of what seemed like torture, I was within 45 minutes of my next flight, and had finally made my way through customs. With exactly 41 hours of no sleep, my body was shaking from exhaustion. I boarded my last flight home, anxiously awaiting my father’s warm embrace.

The flight home had been painfully long, but I was finally on American soil. Exhausted and emotional, I pulled into the driveway of my parent’s house and stumbled to the side entrance. As I reached the entrance, my father swung open the door. With a smile of relief, he wrapped his strong arms around me. I held my breath as tears began to form. I was finally home!

In my Father’s house are many rooms. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also (John 14:2-3, ESV).

We have a heavenly Father who is anxiously waiting to take us into His arms. Our earthly life feels so permanent, but we have an even better home awaiting us. God is preparing a place for us to come home to – an eternal home where we can finally rest. When life is full of pain and hardship, and the emptiness feels too great to bear, we have the assurance that soon we’ll be going home. On my flight back, the wait to see my father felt so long. But how amazing will it be when our spiritual wait is over?! I’m so looking forward to that day when Christ comes back to take us home.

Madeleine Lowe writes from Indiana.

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