Longing for Home and Looking Toward Heaven
Written by Carolyn Seida
I opened my book eagerly under the patio awning, the steam of my coffee winding its way through the crisp fall air. My gaze drifted between the streets of Budapest around me and the pages before me, but soon fixed on the words: “How could existence go on, she thought, desperately? If life is to thrive and endure, it must at least have something to hide behind!…” (Rolvaag 43). Beret’s thoughts resonated with me as I found myself at the end of a long first week in Budapest, enjoying a morning respite from the children. The sights and sounds of a city waking up were nothing like the endless prairie yawning in front of Beret, but far away from all that was familiar, I found myself wondering along with her, what is home?
It seemed that here there were too many things to hide behind; grand buildings, flocks of tourists, and even the language barrier all rendered me invisible and anonymous. I spent my days exploring Budapest and its many castles and playgrounds with my two kids while my husband was at work. It was a grand adventure living in Hungary for five weeks, but I found myself craving friendship and familiarity: my heart was longing for home.
While I shared Beret’s sense of anonymity in some ways, it thankfully hadn’t penetrated my family relationships, as it had for her. Evening Mass and family dinners were a source of great peace in our Budapest routine, and even far from home, my time was graced with lots of little homecomings.
I was wrestling kids in Mass one Tuesday when a Greek phrase emerged from the jumble of Hungarian and pierced my heart: Kyrie Eleison. I know those words! In that familiar Greek, followed by the beautiful Latin that continually resurfaced throughout the Mass, the Lord reached out to me and found my heart. He drew me close and brought me home to Him. In that Mass I found the prodigal Father running out to meet His daughter who was longing to return home, and bringing her to the place where we are most at home: Jesus’ Eucharistic heart.
Likewise, the glory of the Lord finds Beret in the midst of the sacraments: communion and marriage. The Lord sends the minister across the plains to seek out her heart and win it back for Him. He comes running to find her and bring her to the feast of divine grace. Communion and absolution free her from Satan’s grip, and, as she listens later at the barn door to Per Hansa’s conversation with Hans Olsa, her husband’s love for her restores her to full sight. While her marriage isn’t perfect and there is more spiritual healing to go, she is relieved of a heavy burden and she finds herself at home, and “the feeling of home-coming filled her with such joy, that she could only laugh at her bewilderment” (Rolvaag 479). It is not so much finding something to hide behind in the mode of Adam and Eve that brings Beret home, but rather being seen and loved by a merciful God.
And yet, being at home in this life is always only a foreshadowing of the true home to come. Sitting on the couch in my own home once again, I pondered Per Hansa’s face in dismay, “ashen and drawn. His eyes were set toward the west” (Rolvaag 531). Even after Beret’s healing, her marriage is far from perfect and her husband dies. It is truly a vale of tears in which she lives. The homecoming of her healing was but a foretaste of the Heavenly homecoming she hopes for.
My heart resonated with Beret’s astonished gratitude on returning home, but how often do I get stuck, like Per Hansa on the prefigurement rather than on Heaven itself? How often is my face set stubbornly to the west like Per Hansa’s? My vision of the perfect home and family so easily becomes an idol, and I build unrealistic castles in the clouds. Even in day-to-day tasks, I clean my house out of egoism rather than out of hospitality, and I am loath to practice mortifications or give up small comforts. I daily make the same mistake he does: I try to build Heaven on earth.
My return home from Hungary is a small taste of our Heavenly homecoming. Even at home, my restless heart calls out to my God each day. Indeed, my heart is restless until it rests in Him. How glorious that on this earthly pilgrimage, He comes running out to meet me in the graces of the Sacraments time and time again to bring me farther along this rocky, and oh so beautiful, road to heaven.
About Carolyn Seida
Carolyn Seida lives in Skokie, IL with her husband and two young girls. When she’s not reading, she enjoys her small vegetable garden, being outside, homeschooling her kids, and playing guitar very badly. She is grateful for the Well-Read Mom community for always keeping her reading and thinking.
About Well-Read Mom
In Well-Read Mom, women read more and read well. Our hope is to deepen the awareness of meaning hidden in each woman’s daily life, elevate the cultural conversation, and revitalize reading literature from books. If you would like to have us help you select worthy reading material, we invite you to join and read along with us. We are better together! For information on how to start or join a Well-Read Mom group visit our website wellreadmom.com
