When we’d come back from vacation during my growing-up years, Dad, a down-home Texas boy, would quip, “Home again, home again, jiggity jog”. Cutesy, to help us welcome the fact that we were back where we belonged.
And to remind us that we’d returned to the real world. As in routine, responsibilities and the rigors of a new school year.
I’m long done with school, but coming back to Orlando after two months in Colorado is the real world in triplicate. I worked a lot while I was there, and the content of the conference we attended was outstanding. But the mountain surroundings, cool, dry air and a boatload of wonderful friends I only see once every other year weighted the experience as more of a refresher than a routine.
We came back to the air conditioning not working. Emails unanswered. A yard to be mowed.
High heat, higher humidity, a lot of rain. The sweat factor has risen exponentially. As has the mold factor.
Changing climates and time zones has done a deed on me. Sleep is erratic. I’m wide awake when I should be exhausted. Sleep beckons me in the middle of the day. My thermostat is stuck on questionable. Coming back I unpacked boxes and suitcases of things we used for two months, and I looked at all the other stuff and clutter around me and wondered why any of it was necessary.
There’s something incredibly freeing about living in a different place for awhile, with fewer things and a change in responsibility. Not everyone enjoys the idea of change, especially if it’s just for awhile. And returning to expected routine is part of the package. But I love change. The unexpected. New surroundings. New adventures.
To a point.
I’ve whined about the hot, humid house. I’m grouchy due to lack of sleep. I can’t find some of the things I’d taken with me and want now, so all my talk about “stuff and clutter” is basically bunk.
I’m dealing with an issue of control that I don’t like to admit. That I don’t want to own. I act like I’m great with whatever happens. So long as I’m prepared.
There you have it. I’m a closet controller.
Problem is life is uncontrollable. Stuff happens. The stuff we can’t control looks and feels like trouble.
It reminds me continually of why I need Jesus. He’s with me. No matter what.
There are those who call faith a crutch. They don’t see God, and they don’t want to think they need Him.
Everyone gets to choose how they’ll live. I have no problem owning that I require something more than this world offers. If that makes me needy, I can live with that. Jesus meets that need by giving me His strength to live life the way it was intended to be lived.
So home again, home again. I’ve no guarantee what’s coming. But I’m assured that Jesus is with me always.
I can do a jig over that truth.