Leaving Ur

The house where I grew up in Panama.

The LORD had said to Abram, "Go from your country, your people and your father's household to the land I will show you. Genesis 12: 1

This passage always gets me...it touches me very deeply because I identify with the scenario fully.  I too, was called to leave my own "Ur" behind...and I did...

Without trepidation or hesitation, I just did.  I knew I had to.  One of my dear friends had applied for a full-ride scholarship to go to college in the United States and won it, so the next year, I did it too.  Winning that scholarship was the way God materialized His call...and over thirty years later, here I am, in my own personal land of milk and honey.

As I read the passage again, I remembered, not long ago, writing about this.  I visited that post and it all stands true today still, so I copied below some excerpts of the musings I published back in 2018, which I called:

Restless Soul

I have to say that dear, old Abe is a very intriguing person to me. I absolutely love the passage where God calls him out of Ur. I love Abraham's resolve to obey God and leave the only place he had ever called home, even when the destination was completely unknown.

There is something terribly romantic about that, in my opinion.

And the reason I find it romantic, I think, is because I can identify with the idea of leaving home...and everything one has ever known, to go to a place that you haven't even heard of before.

My journey certainly did not impact the history of the world or the salvation of the people of God...I didn't become the Mother of the three major world religions or anything like that...but it did involve a change in my personal history and the bursting of my own little bubble. I didn't pack camels and take the whole family with me. In two suitcases I carried what I could fit, completely ignorant of how ill-prepared I was for my future, most of all, for the insane Western PA winters.

Sigh...

It's been almost 30 years, but I still don't know the full extent this experience will finally have in my life or the lives of those whom I have met along my journey. But one thing I do know... the journey has left me with a restless soul.

For instance, as we consider the difference of a life "settled" and a life as a nomad, dwelling in tents, I can't help but thinking how appealing the wandering life-style sounds to me. I love the idea of camping. I'm obsessed with looking at real estate listings, always looking for a potential new house.  The thought of constantly moving fascinates me.  I often say things like: "let's sell everything, buy an RV and go travel everywhere!" My family ignores me, and chalks it all up to me being insane.  But, the truth is...I am not joking!  Deep inside I have a distaste...a fear, perhaps, of settling...of growing roots...of becoming so accustomed and comfortable in one place that I get stale or way too attached.

I get restless when I am in the same place for too long. I don't like the idea of "settling." I'm afraid of the concept because...if I'm honest with myself, I'm afraid of losing...probably not so much of losing my freedom...but, of losing the place where I've settled. I'm afraid I will fall in love with it so much, that one day I would not want to leave it, but someone of something will come in and take it away from me...and my heart would ache so much I couldn't bear it...like it has already happened when I lost my childhood home in Panama...and now is out of my reach forever.

I loved my parents' house. I loved everything about it. I loved my bed. I loved the way the wind moved the curtains in my room on a breezy day. I loved the cool, old-fashion tile on the floor. I loved staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out shapes on the wood beams. I loved the little patio off the kitchen where I spent endless hours, days, weeks, months and years hanging out with Rosa while she sat at her sewing machine, cooked, washed clothes, or just spent time talking to me about nothing important in-between chores. I loved reclining on a "taburete" and just letting my mind wander at the sound of the rustling leaves in a hot summer afternoon.  I loved the yard full of fruit trees. I even loved the ugly pepto bismol shade of pink in my bathroom... it just added to the overall vintage-feel of the entire house... I loved the smells, the sights, the sounds.  I loved it all and I felt loved every day I was there.

I never imagined, in my wildest dreams...that one day, that would not be my home anymore. I never expected that the grand gate at the bottom of the hilly driveway, which so many nights I shut and locked, would be one day, shut and locked in front of my face, while standing on the other side of the fence, perhaps forever...but that is the way things are today, and it is very hard to reconcile.

It's no wonder that a tent might sound suitable. After all, you can pack it up and take it with you everywhere you go... I can drive my house around if I live in an RV. I can go to the beach and to the mountains, and my house will follow me! How convenient!

But that's not what I'm supposed to do. Deep down, I know it, and I accept it...but it scares me.

I wonder if Abraham ever felt homesick for Ur?  I wonder if in his wandering years of looking at the stars and pondering what the Lord told him about being the father of countless generations, he ever thought about going back to the place where he came from?

I think about moving back to Panama often.  Retiring there is one of my dreams.  I don't know if it will happen.  But, one thing I know: it won't happen soon.

God called me out of my Ur many years ago, and even though I didn't know where I was going, it ended up being my own personal land of milk and honey... so, if I am supposed to learn something out of this whole thing, I pray it may be that no matter what happens, God loves me, and regardless of where He calls me to, He will go before me, and He will take care of all my needs...here, there and everywhere.

May He give me rest and peace to trust in Him.