RELIGION Jesus, come quickly: Longing for home in the face of loss

Melissa Maguire Contributor

I am homeless.

I have a bed, a bathroom, a roof over my head and food every day, but I am without a home. College affords the rare opportunity to live in so many different places that I live in none of them. For a maximum of three consecutive weeks at a time, I return to my childhood home, and a sense of nostalgia sets in.

The place I once called home feels different now. The place that should be home lacks my dad’s terrible jokes and contagious laughter since he passed. The couch shifts position each time I am here, the dishes emigrate to a different cabinet and my bedroom with the soft lilac walls I chose at 17 is often occupied by another family member. My dresser is my suitcase, and my closet is full of clothes I no longer wear. I sleep on a mattress on the floor in the house that was once my sanctuary.

“I don’t want you to feel like a guest. This is your home,” my mom tells me. But I do. I feel like a guest who visits only on the holidays.

Well, then the place I live the rest of the time must be home!

A roughly 11-by-12-foot postage stamp: my dorm room. Amenities include a sink that sprays your face if you turn it on too fast, the world’s loudest shower and cozy bunk beds for two. I share a tiny box refrigerator with my roommate and eat meals made by someone else for the low price of 52 cents an ounce. This hardly feels like a home. It’s an in-between.

We make do because, after all, we aren’t staying here long. Every August we move in and in May move out. Command strips and push pins hold up any decorations we managed to accumulate. I am not complaining. Dorm life is fun, and living near all of your friends holds much value. But it never quite feels like I live here. The other three months of the year, summer break, I spend in yet another not-home: summer camp. The warm air on my face, Chaco sunburn on my feet and French braids in my hair, I run between the camper cabin and my “personal cabin,” which stores all my clothes. I don’t live here either; I am working a rewarding job, but I sleep on yet more bunk beds. I have no home.

Home is a place where you feel safe and at peace, the place where you can be your real self because you belong there. It is your own; everything is where you left it and how you like it. You don’t have to leave, and you put down roots. Home feels permanent.

I have no home. I am in a constant state of visiting and preparing to leave. Yet I find myself wondering if we were meant to find such a permanent home. “This world is not my home / I’m just a-passing through.” We sing this chorus at camp meeting every year, but it has recently taken on new significance to me. The loss of my father this year has kicked my feeling of homelessness into overdrive. How can this be my home without such an integral member of its ecosystem?

And yet a thought comes to my mind: I am only a transient visitor of this planet, not a permanent resident. And I understand what

Jesus meant when He said, “The Son of Man doesn’t have a place to call his own.” (Matthew 8:20) Jesus grew up, and then He, too, was homeless. Not that He had nowhere to stay, but He didn’t have a home. He didn’t take up a permanent residence on earth because He knew He was leaving.

The more and more the world changes, the less I feel attached to it. Sometimes I have thought, “Jesus, wait to come until I get married and have children because I want to experience that before I get to heaven.” But now I pray, “Jesus, come quickly. I want to come home.”

How to get back on track: capitalizing productivity while still prioritizing fun

Elise Deschamps Lifestyle Editor

Wake up. Snooze once (or twice). Drag myself out of bed, get into my swimsuit, sweatpants and hoodie. Grab my keys. Drive to the gym and swim laps. Shower, maybe icebath or sauna, do my skincare and makeup and drive home. Cook a big, balanced breakfast, watch some Youtube and, finally, open up my planner to start on homework. By now, it’s 8:30 a.m., and I feel fully ready for the rest of my day. I’m even cutting down on my caffeine intake.

You might be thinking, “Yeah, okay, you lost me at 8:30 a.m. I just know I would never even want to do all of that.” To be fair, I am naturally a morning person. But I also am naturally a 2 a.m. social media doom-scroller and Netflix binger even when I know I have a jam-packed, energy-draining schedule the next day. And to be even more honest with you, that morning routine was way more realistic last semester than this semester.

These days, my morning routine looks more like this: barely wake up to my alarm at 5:50 a.m. and decide I’m too tired to swim because I stayed up too late last night, then promise to swim later in the day (I won’t). I proceed to fall back asleep until 9:30 a.m. because I purposefully scheduled all of my classes in the afternoon and then lay in bed scrolling on my phone for an hour (or more). I’ll look at the checklist I swore that I’d follow the night before and feel a little bad about myself. After all, there’s always tomorrow.

So how did I ever do all of those things before? Where did my motivation and energy go? Well, for starters, I stopped prioritizing sleep the way I did.

I also stopped being as intentional about grocery shopping. Instead, I prioritized late nights with lovely newfound friendships and different experiences that bring richness to my life.

It’s hard finding balance. Last semester was probably the first time in my life that I fully dedicated myself to finding a schedule that capitalized my time and efficiency. Then, as I finally found my people in college, I dedicated myself to deepening those relationships rather than dedicating myself to my productivity. Now, with less than a month left in the semester, comes the question: How can we do both?

As fun and enriching as it is to have multiple spontaneous latenight hangouts with my friends, my sleep schedule and morning routine — and thus my productivity, grades and energy levels — have definitely suffered as a result. Here’s how I plan on getting back on track:

Going to bed on time: This one is annoying, but I know it’s the first step for me. I need at least seven hours of sleep to wake up without feeling exhausted. This looks like kicking out my friends by 9:30 p.m., taking my melatonin a little bit earlier than usual (I only use it to re-train myself to go to bed early) and maybe doing some reading right before bed because I’ll actually get bored and sleepy, unlike when I scroll on my phone.

Standing up as soon as my alarm goes off: If I don’t immediately stand up, chances are I’m going back to sleep. Given I actually got enough sleep the night before, I tell myself that I want the results of a productive morning more than I want to sleep in a little bit more.

Planning my day the night before: My notes app is my best friend. I used to be a planner girly (and still am to a certain degree) but recently I have been utilizing a daily to-do list. The first half is a detailed checklist of every little thing I want to do for myself. Wake up. Drink water. Eat a banana. Swim. Shower. Cook breakfast. Make my bed. Brush my teeth. I see every small thing I do as a win, as a check mark of productivity. It truly helps me feel like I’m already being productive, and I then can transition this basic-self-care-energy into being productive with actual school work.

Plan fun things ahead of time: Knowing that I have something fun planned for the weekend (or even a bit earlier on a random weeknight) allows me to have a goal to work toward. I remind myself that freedom and fun is right around the corner. If a friend is coming over for dinner, I need to get as much done as I can during the day so I can be fully present later.

Understand that it’s okay to veer off schedule: It’s going to happen, so there’s no point in beating yourself up about it. The only reason I feel so passionately about making sure I “do my mornings right” is that it makes it easier to get everything else done because I actually set myself up for success. If snoozing my alarm and sleeping in made it easier for me to be productive in life then I definitely would be doing that.

Life is more than just school and work. Experiences with good friends, in my opinion, is just as important as getting good grades. Making sure you’re sleeping and eating well enough is one of the best things we can do for ourselves in the long run.

Dear Kevin: How do I know if college is for me?

Dear Inquisitive Inquirer: College, while a rich and rewarding experience, shouldn’t be something you feel obligated to do if you do not feel any desire or motivation to go or if you see a clear plan for your life that does not include hi gher education. Don’t be afraid to explore other options, such as trade school. There are many professions that do not need degrees. As long as you have a good work ethic and are not afraid to start at the bottom, you have a bright future.

That being said, if you are still unsure about college, try taking a few courses and see how you feel. Pursue something you are passionate about, and remember that it is never too late to go back to college.

Another thing you can do is talk to your friends and family or a guidance counselor.

Here’s what NOT to do. Don’t sit around waiting for a job opportunity to arise. Be proactive and work on yourself during times of unemployment.

Dear Kevin: I feel I am being replaced in my best friend’s life. What should I do?

Dear Reader: How astute of you to ask such a question. I, too, fear I will be replaced in this dizzying climate of change. It is sad to think how fast one can be forgotten, voted out of existence. *Pensive duck sigh* But, I digress. You should have a good talk with your best friend. Communication is usually a good option. Keep in mind, however, that sometimes people naturally grow apart, and there is nothing you can do about it. Fate, that cruel mistress, plays at our heartstrings until we can barely bear it. But take heart, my dear friend. There are other diversions. Perhaps it is time to move on yourself. Talk to new people, do new things. Perhaps, although it may never replace your best friend, it may numb the pain of being replaced for just a while.