my at-home place

“Ulm ist meine Heimat, aber München ist mein Zuhause.”

Something clicked in my head when an acquaintance from church said that. The sentence is difficult to translate, since it involves two words for home that mean slightly different things.

Loosely translated, it means, “Ulm is my hometown, but Munich is my at-home place.”

In August, I spent a week at a retreat for young people at my church in Munich. I realized during that time that in deciding to stay in Munich for a second year, I have chosen to acknowledge Munich as my Zuhause - my at-home place. The place where I’m home to friends and family and the people of God. It’s not Wheaton anymore. It’s Munich. That is a bizarre realization. 

I could have left relatively easily at the end of this past year. Sure, I chose to put down roots in Bavaria’s capital, but when all’s said and done, I was only there for ten months. It wouldn’t have hurt too much to leave. 

But after another year there - another year of putting down roots and building relationships and blooming where I’m planted - it’s going to be hard to leave my at-home place. As aware as I am of that, I have no doubt that it’s worth it to stay. Munich is where I am supposed to be during this season, and I rejoice to be there.

So I’ve added a new term and a new place to my ongoing preoccupation with the concept of home. 

My True Home is heaven, and any other stopping spot in this life is a pilgrim’s haven. 

My homeland is America. 

My home state: North Carolina.

My home town: wherever my parents live.

My at-home place? For now, it’s Munich. And that’s a really good thing.