Homesick

hiraeth [m.] welsh(n.) yearning, longing, nostalgia; homesickness, grief

“It is difficult to define hiraeth but to me it means the consciousness of man being out of his home area and that which is dear to him. That is why it can be felt even among a host of peoples amidst nature’s beauty. Like a Christian yearning for heaven.”
~D. Martyn Lloyd-Jones

“There have been times when I think we do not desire heaven; but more often I find myself wondering whether, in our heart of hearts, we have ever desired anything else….It is the secret signature of each soul, the incommunicable and unappeasable want, the thing we desired before we met our wives or made our friends or chose our work, and which we shall still desire on our deathbeds, when the mind no longer knows wife or friend or work….All your life an unattainable ecstasy has hovered just beyond the grasp of your consciousness. The day is coming when you will wake to find, beyond all hope, that you have attained it.”
~C.S. Lewis The Problem of Pain

“It was when I was happiest that I longed most….The sweetest thing in all my life has been the longing…to find the place where all the beauty came from.”
~C.S. Lewis Till We Have Faces

I think God gives us little tastes of heaven here on earth. There are certain things that stir our hearts and trigger that yearning for home. I love that word: yearning.

One night, Natalie and I were walking along the beach late at night. The moon was full in the velvet sky and reflected on the black water. The waves rolled and quietly crashed. I couldn't tell if it was the wind or the overwhelming majesty of the ocean that chilled me to the bone. I felt like I was walking on holy ground.

"Have you ever heard the word, 'hiraeth'?" Natalie broke the silence.

She told me what it meant, the sea showed me how it felt.

What moves you? What causes that pang in you heart? That ache? That silent cry for home?

Music...What music in particular changes. Today it is Mumford & Sons. I couldn't describe them better than this, "Every song of theirs feels like a prayer. It’s almost too much for me sometimes . . .listening to them is like looking straight into the sun. It hurts it’s so bright."--Glennon

Van Gogh...I wish I could put my finger on what it is that speaks to my soul. Maybe it's the vibrant, bold, hundred shades of blue he uses. Or the way you can see the wind blowing. Or the tiny, individual, almost haphazard strokes that somehow all unite into such colorful, enchanting art...

The Sun... The sun setting over the everglades. the sun rising over the Atlantic. The heat of the sun on my arms, The rays of the sun in my front lawn. Dust dancing on the patches of light on my carpet. Those brief seconds just before the sun disappears when all of nature: every blade of grass, every leaf, every drop of rain, every flower petal catches fire. It's orange, coral, tangerine, and red colors.



This Quote (Particularly the italicized portion)..."It is as hard to explain how this sunlit land was different from the old Narnia as it would be to tell you how the fruits of that country taste. Perhaps you will get some idea of it if you think like this. You may have been in a room in which there was a window that looked out on a lovely bay of the sea or a green valley that wound away among the mountains. And in the wall of that room opposite to the window there may have been a looking glass. Ans as you turned away from the window you suddenly caught sight of that sea or that valley, all over again, in the looking glass. And the sea in the mirror, or the mirror in the valley in the mirror, were in one sense just the same as the real ones: yet at the same time they were somehow different--deeper, more wonderful, more like places in a story: in a story you have never heard but very much want to know. The difference between the old Narnia and the new Narnia was like that. The new one was a deeper country: every rock and flower and blade of grass looks as if it meant more. I can't describe it any better than that: if you ever get there you will know what I mean.
It was the Unicorn who summed up what everyone was feeling. He stamped his right fore hoof on the ground and neighed, and then cried:
"I have come home at last! This is my real country! I belong here. This is the land I have been looking for all my life, though I never knew it till now. The reason why we loved the old Narnia is that it sometimes looked a little like this. Bree-hee-hee! Come further up, come further in!"
He shook his mane and sprang forward into a great gallop--a Unicorn's gallop, which, in our world, would have carried him out of sight in a few moments. But ore a most strange thing happened. Everyone else began to run, and the found, to their astonishment, that they could keep up with him: not only the Dogs and the humans but even fat little Puzzle and short-legged Poggin the Dwarf. The air flew in their faces as if they were driving fast in a car without a windscreen. The country flew past as if they were seeing it from the windows of an express train. Faster and faster they raced, but no one got hot or tired or out of breath...
..If one could run without getting tired, I don't think one would often want to do anything else."
--C.S. Lewis (The Last Battle)