four-minute friday: home

Go. My friend half-jokingly refers to America as "God's country", and her words were on my mind as we touched down in JFK at 6:30 this morning. It feels good to be home.

This is where it gets hard to explain, but I'll my remaining 3.5 minutes.

Africa is home. I've lived there long enough, put roots down deep enough, feel totally comfortable there that I have no qualms about calling it home. I often do. Especially when I'm in America. The phrase "Back home..." seasons my conversations.

But America will also always be home for me. No amount of years living overseas will ever take that away. There's something about being here---something about that instant when the airplane wheels hit the tarmac---that makes me feel like I'm being hugged.

There's much I disagree with and dislike about my home country and culture, as there also is about my new country and culture. But I proudly call both home.