They say “You can’t
go home again,” but I think they are wrong.
Actually, I think I would love to someday know who “THEY” are, but that’s
a whole other subject…
“You can’t go home again.”
Where did that saying come from?
And what exactly does it mean? In
its literal sense it means what it says – you can’t go home again – but that
obviously isn’t true as most everyone goes home every day. Again, and again, and again… But it’s not meant to be taken literally, I
don’t think.
According to Wikipedia (yes, I’m referencing Wikipedia…) You Can’t Go Home Again is actually the
title of a book by Thomas Wolfe in which the main character writes a novel
about the town he grew up in which makes him unwelcome to return due to his
neighbors not appreciating his depiction of their small town. Of course, this vastly knowledgeable website
(yes, I’m kidding!) also lists You Can’t
Go Home Again as the title of a song by DJ Shadow and the title of an
episode of the TV show Battlestar
Galactica. So, I’m not really sure
we’re getting to the crux of the matter here, perhaps we should look
elsewhere for insight.
“You can’t go home again.”
You can’t recapture what is gone.
The past is the past. History is
history. Nothing is ever exactly the
same twice. You’ll never be exactly who
you once were. Things change. People grow up. Views expand.
Childhood games are exchanged for adult opinions. You can’t go back to what isn’t there anymore… But I still say “THEY” are wrong.
When my life changed suddenly from settled, secure and
married to lost, scared and single I definitely ran home. Not literally in a
physical sense, that would have been weird since some other family now lives in
the house I grew up in, but I ran to what was familiar. What was certain. What was steady in a world that felt like it
was crumbling down around me. My
family. My old friends. My roots.
I didn’t pick up and move, (okay, we actually did have to do that at one
point…) but I most certainly ran back to the emotional arms of security and
comfort. And I went HOME.
Today I am in San Francisco.
Actually, as I write this I am dipping my fries in ketchup as I smell
the yummy burger just delivered to me at the Hard Rock Café at Pier 39. Yes, I’m writing while eating, but it’s not
like I’m running with scissors… and I am
alone at my table so I’m not being rude… Anyway, back to the point here…
Today I am in San Francisco.
For some this may seem a prime vacation destination, but for me it’s
much more like home. It’s natural. It’s familiar. It’s comfortable like that old shoe
comparison. I have been coming to San
Francisco for as long as I can remember and not a single memory is bad. Some less worthy of reverence than others,
but nothing tainted or disturbing. And
so many more filled with joy and laughter.
This was one of my grandmother’s favorite places. She talked about it all the time. I remember coming up here with her on the
train. Riding the cable cars. Walking the hills. Eating the chocolate… And as a child, my immediate
family would come on vacation. We would
drive across the Golden Gate Bridge.
Stroll through the five-story Macy’s.
Eat at the Alcatraz Café. Visit
the sea lions. When I was in college my
parents moved to the bay area and I began to visit San Francisco with high
school friends and college roommates.
Riding BART. Touring Alcatraz. Visiting the sea lions. After I was married we still continued to
visit – being sure to dine at the Old Spaghetti Factory at Jack London
Square. Laughing at the “tourists”. Staring at the crazy street performer
escaping chains for cash. Visiting the
sea lions.
And today, well, here I am again. Back in those “old stomping grounds”. No companion.
No set plans. No map. And no heavy heart. Because I’m home. Comfortable in my
surroundings. Familiar with my past. Moving steadily into my future. And it’s peaceful here. Tranquil.
Comfortable. Like an old shoe.
Now, I’m not saying I want to move here and start a new life
in San Francisco. I don’t need to nor
would I seriously blend in around here too well, but this place is a piece of
who I am. The time spent here helped
form me. The memories of various trips
and those friends and family members I visited with are part of who I am. Who I was.
Who I’m becoming. This place is a
piece of home and it reminds me of all the blessings I’ve been given throughout
my life.
I won’t lie, as I sit here alone there is a little piece of
me that is a bit melancholy – no so much sad to be here by myself, but more
wistful for the next time I return hopefully with company in tow. But it’s still home. An island in the journey that’s rock steady
and available to me when I need to touch base.
If you didn’t catch it before, there are sea lions
here. And I love to come visit
them. They are big. They are cute. (And I’m sure they’d be cuddly if I were
allowed close enough to them to find out…)
And although they were originally unwanted and boaters tried to shoo
them away, over the years the big “they” of Pier 39 has come to accept them. Exploit them a bit in fact to attract animal
suckers like me – but ultimately allow the sea lions to make this part of their
home. An island of refuge on their journey. A safe haven where they can touch base before
moving on. A place to feel safe, and to
rest among friends and the familiar.
So, perhaps at heart I’m really just a California Sea Lion. Perhaps that is why I’m drawn back to San
Francisco and have such fond memories of all my times here. Maybe in the big scheme of things, I’m just
venturing between my own islands of refuge, touching base at my own safe havens
to rest and refuel before continuing on my journey. But isn’t that what God invites to do along way? To come home? To check in?
To rest in His arms while we refuel for the next part of our journey? To spend time with Him and allow Him to help us feel safe and return to the familiar?
So, yes, I just compared visiting San Francisco with spending time in the arms of my loving Savior, and yes that is probably one of the strangest comparisons this city will ever see. But what I can say, perhaps I really am just a pinniped deep
down in my heart. And honestly… a sea lion? I can think of far worse things to be.
May the Lord find you wherever you are today, and may He provide you the safe havens you need as you travel the rest of your journey, because with Jesus it doesn't matter what THEY say - you can always go home again.
These things I have
spoken to you, that in Me you may have peace. In the world you will have
tribulation; but be of good cheer, I have overcome the world. John 16:33
The name of the LORD
is a strong tower: the righteous runs into it, and is safe. Proverbs 18:10
I will both lay me
down in peace, and sleep: for thou, LORD, only makes me dwell in safety. Psalm 4:8
My soul finds rest in
God alone; my salvation comes from him. Psalm 62:1
Peace I leave with
you, My peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not
your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid. John 14:27
The God of my rock; in Him will I trust: He is my shield, and the horn of my salvation, my high tower, and my refuge, my Savior; Thou saved me from violence. I will call on the LORD, who is worthy to be praised: so shall I be saved from mine enemies. 2 Samuel 22:3-4
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