Monday, November 9, 2009

Where have I been?

The truth is, I haven't stopped moving, literally.

One Friday we met with our realtor, and we had painted, packed, cleaned, grouted, swept, tossed, given away, and moved by the wee hours of Wednesday morning. Dan moved the last things out at about 3:00 am.

5 people. 2 pets. 2000 square feet. 5 days.

I think that was last week, but I am not really sure, and the calendar is packed away with Juliana's underwear, and my razor, and other things we can't find.

But it's okay.

In just a few days we have received many offers on it, which is exciting, and sad.

But we are okay.

That house, though it was in many ways our dream house, is only wood, stucco, tile and paint without us in it. It's only a house.

It's not our home.

It was, up until we left it, though, so of course we miss it.

But it's not our home.

Home is where Dan is. Home is wherever we lie down together and talk about the day.

Home is where Mckenna is. It's wherever I catch her reading late at night in bed or talking to her kitty in the sweetest voice.

Home is where Gabriel is. It's wherever he wakes up with a smile and wants snuggles, and wherever he is telling me all the little boy thoughts in his head.

Home is where Juliana is. It's wherever her smile brightens any moment, wherever her adorable voice calls out for me, wherever her singing can be heard.

For now, home is where my family is.

But being without a physical home (don't worry--we have a place to live, it's just not ours) has reminded me that this world is not my home.

In my real home--heaven--is a baby. A niece or a nephew who went to be with Jesus long before we hoped. We never got to meet this precious one; my brave sister-in-law endured a horrible miscarriage last Friday at 13 weeks, the details of which I will spare you. But suffice it to say that event reminded me again that this is not my home.

The Bible says we are wanderers, sojourners, foreigners on Earth (1 Peter 2). We long for heaven, as the earth itself does (Romans 8), because our souls know this is not home.

And yet, because we long for a home, we seek out and search for a place to feel at home.

I don't know where this journey will end.

I don't know where in the world we will find a church home, a city home, a house home.

But we are on a great adventure with God, and I trust Him to lead us.

For now, we find those feelings of home with our family of 5, our larger family of grandparents, aunties, uncles and cousins, and with our dear, dear friends. Until such a time as God reveals to us a place to go, we will praise Him for all we have, and all He has taken away.

And when we find our next home, I pray we remember, always remember, that the brevity of life, the suddenness of loss, and the seriousness of salvation requires that we hold tightly to our faith, and loosely to our plans. And that home, real home, is a gift awaiting us at some appointed day, where the blessings will banish all memories of suffering. Until then, we press on.

And we are okay.


The Murphy Family said...

WOW. I read that with conviction having "mourned" the loss of our last "dream home"... even though we chose and wanted to move. Hang in there and know that the Lord has a much larger plan for you and your sweet family. Love you girl.

Heather said...

Beautifully said, Carlee. Praying for you. His grace is clearly shining through you all as you endure this trial.