Hanging in the Son

I find myself in a place of waiting. I have been in this place for a long time. I'm waiting for a home. We've been on the road now for over a year and at times it gets frustrating not to have a "real" place to put our feet up, unwind, and make beautiful. But, you know what I think I'm supposed to be learning through this? Heaven is my future home and my body is Christ's present home. What REALLY matters? Many of my neighbours live without running water, struggle to pay for a bag of rice, and can't afford to send their children to school. When I go out, I am asked, "Mau ke mana? (Where are you going?)" as if they wish that they too could have the extravagence of leaving the kampung whenever they wish. I wonder what my neighbours' dreams are? If they could be anyone or go anywhere, who would they become, where would they go? And what do they see when they see me? Do they see a woman who is rushing off from this place to that? Do they see a tired mom or a culture-shocked lady? Do they see a smile that has a message of hope behind it? And why do we as humans always long for a tomorrow? Why does the past seem so much more pleasant today than it did when it was a "today"? Oh that I would live my present moments with the same fervour and joy that I hope to live my tomorrows. The past is past, the future isn't here yet, all I have is right now. And so as I "hang" and wait, I am being watched. As I wait, my life is a witness to many watching eyes. Just like laundry on a line ... I'm not going anywhere until the Son finishes His work. In the process of hanging, I'm being changed. And in the process of changing, I'm also witnessing. I'm hanging as a witness of the Son.