Like a Frog Out of Water

Far From His Creek. August, 2011.
On Sojourn
“Come look at this,” my husband called from our front deck one evening.
Stepping out into the evening’s cool air, I stood beside him and saw with him: A tiny frog, no bigger than a walnut, was making his way up the frame of our front door, nestled into the angle of doorjamb and siding about five feet up from our wooden deck. 
“I wonder if he came up from the creek,” I said. Rich shrugged. 
We watched him for a moment, then returned to our living room. Later that evening, I heard the neighborhood army of frogs raising a chorus from the gully and imagined they were calling their misplaced soldier home.
I considered whether the frog felt out of place, resting there on our house, and reflected on my own sense of dislocation. Our home is comfortable and secure and I share it with loved ones. We want for nothing: the pantry is full, the bed is warm, garments hang in our closet, our neighborhood is peaceful. By all appearances, my home is a proper place for me.

But I don’t belong here any more than that frog belongs on our wall. My heart knows this fact better than I do, and tugs at me.

This isn’t the place, it whispers. You have another homeland. You’re on sojourn here.

This beloved house and its comforts are illusory. Another place is home. Someday I’ll return, though I don’t know when. And while I enjoy the comforts and challenges of this life, I know that when my visa expires and I attain my eternal home, my heart will say:

This is the place. Relax. You’re home now.

20 For our citizenship is in heaven, from which also we eagerly wait for a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ; 21 who will transform the body of our humble state into conformity with the body of His glory, by the exertion of the power that He has even to subject all things to Himself.
Philippians 3:20-21 (NASB)

Today I’m linking up with L.L. Barkat at Seedlings in Stone for In, On, and Around Mondays. I do hope you’ll stop by.

On In Around button


  1. Lovely, Sheila.


  2. Wonderful illustrations you show here. Yes at times we are made aware of being mis-placed like that little frog. Our surroundings are enjoyed and our earth suit still fits and at times may need repair, but one of these days as you so vividly put it, our visa will expire.
    Like the other frogs calling “come home,” our loved ones who have gone before – – beckon to us.

  3. Thanks, Linda and Hazel, for your kind words.

  4. Sheila, my friend! Thanks so much for all your encouraging words over the past few weeks! I have a few minutes online and just needed to stop and drink up some of your words. Looking forward to that day when we are home together, sitting in the same neighborhood, and not even glitchy internet will keep us apart!

  5. Ah yes … like frogs on a wall, aren’t we? Someday we’ll make a leap, landing right where we belong.

  6. Nancy, it’s been my privilege. Isn’t that what we’re here for? And don’t I remember crying all the way home after depositing my daughter at college? I hope your corner of the country is dry and enjoying modern ‘lectrical conveniences soon.

  7. Jennifer, Yes. Yes we are.