Jeremiah 29:4-5, 7: “Thus says the Lord of hosts…Build houses and live in them; plant gardens and eat their produce….But seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the Lord on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare.”
I am not at home. These humble hills
Are not my mighty mountains. What I’d give
To see the snows of Never Summer, catch
The light delighting Haiyaha. And yet You say
To sink my roots into this foreign soil
Of time and place and tribe. I’ll build my house,
Sturdy like a bloodline, and I’ll give my love
To the man, the name, that grounds me here.
I’ll dig my hands in dirt, and love the land
To hopeful harvest—and I’ll stay
Long enough to eat tomatoes from the vine.
I won’t hold back, but pour into this land
All my lifeblood prayers - for even here,
Ten thousand miles from home, I build shalom -
A weather eye cast west for what will come,
A faithful gaze held steady on today.