My parents moved frequently when I was a child. First, we migrated from New York to Miami, lured by the promise of warmer winters, proximity to the ocean — and something elusive called a better life.
After a few years, however, the dream lost its shine — and we packed up everything and went back up north.
My parents missed the relatives who still lived there and the old way of life, they said. But it wasn’t long before they regretted their decision to return — and we were on the road again, headed to a new house in Miami.
It’s tough enough for adults to adjust to upheavals, but the wear and tear on children can be much greater.
My sister and I had to say goodbye to friends, leave the familiar routines of school and church, and become that dreaded of all creatures — the new kid in class.
Once back in Florida, I yearned for what seemed like a normal life — living in one house, knowing the neighbors and staying in the same school — but we moved six times before I went to high school.
There’s a restlessness that stalks us all, a search for a place where things will be better — and we’ll be immeasurably happier.
Perhaps this explains why magazines feature the best places to retire, the ideal spot to raise children and the most pristine, uncrowded beaches, which soon become overpopulated when people discover them.
In my neighborhood, there’s an enormous turnover, as young couples move into houses, send their children to nearby schools, and then, out of the blue, the “for sale” sign shows up on the lawn.
Often, the move means a job promotion, but sometimes it’s the irresistible lure for a place that will fulfill every dream.
Some small-town folks feel they’re missing out on the educational and cultural activities of a big city. People in gigantic metropolises often yearn for acreage and a simpler life.
This desire for something more, something better and something perfect is built into our human nature.
Sometimes, the longing is connected with the “new is better” syndrome, which manifests itself in an obsession with stuff.
Even though my phone suits my needs, isn’t it time to get an updated model with more bells and whistles?
And how can I be content with my current car, when the newest model makes it look like a horse and buggy?
I’m not saying we should stay in one house forever and ignore technology, but let’s realize the world will never fulfill our longings.
In truth, only God can satisfy our deepest yearnings. As St. Augustine eloquently put it, “You made us for yourself, oh Lord, and our hearts are restless, until they find their rest in you.”
The new house soon reveals its faults and the ultimate beach spot falls prey to developers. We can’t create a perfect life in a world that’s inherently fallen.
In a letter to his son, J.R.R. Tolkien wrote, “There is a place called heaven where the good here unfinished is completed; and where the stories unwritten, and the hopes unfulfilled, are continued.”
In this perfect place, the beaches are gorgeous, the sky is always blue — and all our dreams come true. And there’s never a for-sale sign on the lawn of God’s heavenly kingdom.
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