By Elizabeth McKenzie
Two small, chubby – and slightly grubby – fists gripped my forefingers. It was walkabout time. The rest of the household bustled about its business. We were setting out to explore the world, starting with the hallway and then maybe the garden. The only constraint would be when little legs – or the guide's back – grew weary.
My small grandnephew and I had only relatively recently become acquainted as he had arrived since my last visit "home". I experienced a moment of wild joy to be such a privileged facilitator, as one small dynamo took on the world. The wonderful image of God as loving Father in Hosea sprang to mind. "I myself taught Ephraim to walk – I was leading them with human ties, with leading strings of love." (Hosea 11:3-4)
"We know for sure that great truth we trust and believe in, the Kingdom of God is at hand."Credit: Domino Postiglione
Now, back on the other side of the world, I depend on Facebook, emails and Skype to keep me up to date on my small adventurer's progress, for news, chat and information from his world. Emigrating all those years ago to the opposite side of the world was a great adventure, not small baby steps but a great leap of faith into the future. But now, I am saddened by the realisation that there are futures I won't be there to share.
Being an exile carries with it the inevitability of melancholy. There is always the lurking question deep in one's psyche of, "What if I had never left?" Precious family milestones are celebrated or mourned in your absence – the death of beloved parents, weddings, the birth of a whole new generation.
Travel and the social media have closed the gap. But a hearkening after what might have been – in relationships, or personal development or even for the familiarities of the society left behind – is part and parcel of the life of the exile. And on the other hand, the certainties of familial and social acceptance are no longer guaranteed. There is an ongoing grieving process for a lost world that cannot be gainsaid. It may fade with time but never quite goes away.
Yet in many ways we are all exiles. As children of God, we must negotiate a world riven by conflict, incivility, intolerance and an often alien, antagonistic environment. We long to rest by a hearth, to feel at home, to experience the doting attention of a loving parent. We hearken after the promises of Jesus – that in the Kingdom of His Father we can live in a spirit of truth, mercy and love. And we know for sure that great truth we trust and believe in, the Kingdom of God is at hand.
Elizabeth McKenzie is a Melbourne writer and editor.