Home Sweet Home

So I went to the website of the British Union (BUC) of Seventh-day Adventists. And I checked the gallery (click here). And I looked at photos from the camp meeting last week. And suddenly I felt a certain sadness. Something along the lines of, I should have been there. Or, these are my friends and colleagues. Plus, but I'm no longer part of that world... I believe they call it homesick.

But this could lead to the question, where is home? Hildesheim, in Germany (my birth place), Darmstadt, also in Germany (high school, national service, and a bit of university), London (university, friends, church), Gloucester (more friends, work), Bermuda? Where is home?
Recently I came across this thought, that home to a pastor is two-fold: heaven, and the place where one works.
So I'm at home at the moment--well, one of them anyway. And yet, there's a strange tugging on the strings of memory, a faint call to return to what once was.
And if I were to return to the UK, I'd probably long to be back in Bermuda--oh wretched human psyche.

What then, if any, is the conclusion of the matter? It's morning, and I haven't had breakfast? (solution: eat and get on with it). Probably that.
This "homesickness" may just be a feeling of having belonged to a group of friends and colleagues, and being part of a network of people, and deciding to step out of that circle. Unfortunately, separation is part of moving. Some things, and someone always get left behind. My mum, years ago, gave me a German poem which ends with the line, mein Herz nimm Abschied und gesunde (something like: my heart say goodbye and get well). I suppose the getting well process is bitter-sweet, like childhood medicine.