I know not all homes are permanent. Neither is every room. Maybe most of them aren’t. We get disoriented when we expect the places where we have a taste of belonging to last forever. When they change, we think we’ve been lost or left. We think we’ve done something wrong. We fail to consider that perhaps this home was home for a moment, shelter from a gathering storm, respite from the torrential rains of disappointment, a place to heal for a moment in time even if it’s not forever.
