RESTORED HOME // Chapter 12

I was almost too afraid to think it. I was afraid that if I simply thought the word, it would disappear into thin air. Surely I’ve heard him wrong? 

But that’s not right. I know His voice. 

His sheep know his voice. 

Please, say it again, Father? I heard you say it. I know I heard you say it. 

HOME. 

It’s time to go HOME. 

The words beat in my heart like a drum, louder and louder and louder. HOME. 

And He and I both know–there’s only one of those: SCOTLAND.

It’s time to go HOME. 

It was like a heartbeat in my chest started beating again. I felt it in my bones. It was time to go home. Clear as day, a word from the Lord: Rachel, it’s time to go home. 

A few hours later, I sat across the table from two friends who knew me well. They had walked the grief journey with me. They knew all the losses, all the pain. As lunch began to wrap up, I knew I needed to say the words out loud. I knew the Lord’s voice. And there was this gripping desire in me to tell them what had happened that morning. 

But how do you change gears like that in a conversation? 

No idea. 

The words just bubbled to the surface and spilled out. 

“I think the Lord is saying it’s time to go home.”

The tears started to fall as I recounted my morning—forgiveness and blessing…and home. 

And they didn’t tell me I was crazy. They didn’t roll their eyes and laugh at my naivety. They didn’t ask a thousand questions of how or why. They just sat with me and let it all wash over them in sacred silence. 

It was just the most incredible answer. The most stunning reversal. The most longed-for outcome. And they saw it. And they knew it. And they believed me. 

They believed me when they said it was time to go home. 

And God used my dear friends Diana and Gretchen to bear witness to this amazing moment in my life. They were there, they saw, they heard. And they believed. 

I told my Dad and sister next. I could barely wait to tell them. So much so that I told them as they prepared for a hurricane in Florida. My tact was severely lacking, but even as they filled buckets with water and stocked their cupboards with food–they didn’t tell me I was crazy. They listened; they cried with me; they let me share the incredible things the Lord was doing in my heart. 

The Lord used my sister and my Dad to bear witness to the work the Lord was doing in my heart. 

I’m so thankful for these four precious souls who listened and believed me. It filled my heart with hope and set my wings to fluttering. 

And from there? Well, I set my heart and my mind like flint, and I got to work. 

We booked a trip to Scotland. Three weeks in the new year. Did I have a plan? No, not really. I just knew I had to get us back on Scottish soil. I needed to look people in the eye and say, “Can you help us get home?”

We landed in Glasgow on January 24th. 

Of course we did. 

Of. Course. We. Did.

Only the Lord. Only the Lord could do that. 

You see, exactly one year prior–to the day–almost to the hour, actually, we had to leave Scotland. 

You may remember my words from that day…

I was Mara.

I went away full.

But now,

I was leaving my home 

completely

and utterly 

empty.

The Lord had opposed me.

The Almighty had afflicted me.

I was bitter. 

My new name was 

BITTER.

I looked up at the screen as we walked into the airport and took note of the date.

January 24.

The day I lost my home. 

And not just my home home. 

I lost HOME. In every sense of the word I lost…

HOME.

My husband. My church family. My house. My neighbors. My mission field. My friends. My stuff. My ministry. My garden. My calling. My income. My dreams. My security. And now my beloved Scotland, too. All of it, gone. It was all just a puff of smoke. (taken from Chapter 5: Empty)

365 days. 

HOME-less. For one whole year. 

And here we were, RESTORED HOME. 

We ran into the arms of friends and cried. Tears of grief, and fresh hope, and healing. 

I was on a mission. I was resolved. The Lord had spoken: it is time to go home. 

I set up 37 meetings over those three weeks. I sat down with every person I knew. I shared my heart, what the Lord had been up to, the words I knew he had spoken. And so, I boldly asked–” Can you help us get back home?” We needed a visa, and I needed a job. That’s the only way this was going to work. And so I blatantly asked. 

And at the 37th meeting, we got a YES. 

They could help us get a visa. There was no money— no salary—but they could help us get a visa, and it could work in such a way that I could return to our church plant for work. 

I was stunned. Speechless. I knew the Lord was preparing something for us, but I didn’t know just how good it could be. He was preparing a women’s ministry position. In Scotland. At our church. Just for me. Little me. He saw me. He knew me. He loved me so.

“A wide door for effective ministry has opened for me…(1 Corinthians 16:9)

Three weeks later, we returned to Georgia. I started writing letters to friends…

You’ll never believe it, the Lord has RESTORED HOME!

And friends wrote back. And they gave. And they committed support. And the Lord opened door after door. And five months later, a full salary raised, we booked the plane tickets. 

The tickets with no return trip. 

The tickets that told the story of our God who RESTORED HOME. 

. . . . . . . . . . . .

E P I L O G U E

I’ve decided that’s a good place to stop this story. It certainly isn’t the end of my story. Nor is it the end of the grief or the losses or the restoration. I’ve lived through many more chapters since we were RESTORED HOME to Scotland in 2018. Some have been more painful and poignant than those I’ve shared here. But that’s another story for another day. 

For today, I hope that in my little life you see a God who writes redemption stories. 

He has restored me in so many ways. 

He even restored me to the point that I could set to work on his mission to restore others. That’s where this beautiful ministry, Restored Home, began. 

And it’s been so special. So very, very special. 

But it was never Plan A. The good stories usually never are, though, are they?

This was the better plan all along. But even as I journeyed onwards, seeking to steward this ministry with faithfulness and patience, there was another dream beating like a drum in my chest. 

You see, it was always and ever about Scotland–about the church here that I love with all my heart. About a bigger-picture restoration that I long for–one that faithful saints across the centuries have prayed for: for the church in Scotland to be restored. For a return to God’s Word and His ways. It’s a calling that I got wrapped up into along the way, and it entered my bloodstream, and I’ve just never been able to long for anything else. 

And now here I sit again–the opportunity to work in a church once again–and I just know. I know like I’ve known all along–this is what I’m supposed to do. I’m supposed to give my life for the church in Scotland. And so on July 7th, I will begin a new chapter, in a new church, with a new dear and precious group of women. And I will set my hand to the plow–there’s a field to sow and seeds to plant. I love that I get to be just one wee woman in this grand history of God’s love for the Scottish Church. I don’t know what’s round the bend, but for now, I know that this is where the Lord has set my feet. And so I will seek to befriend faithfulness–to cultivate it with all my heart, with all my soul (Psalm 37:3). 

This is my RESTORED HOME. And I will never, ever get over it. I love my life. I love my story. 

But most of all, I love my God–my true, my dear, my beloved Eternal Home. 

Amen.