Friday, August 16, 2013

in the in-between places

Oh, if you could see my house right now! Empty boxes strewn across the living room, floors very much un-mopped and sticky. Half of our belongings are already in Washington, and half of them are waiting to be put into cardboard boxes. This is what "we move in eight days" looks like!

You know what's interesting? The stage of my house seems to parallel where my head and my heart are, too. My thoughts jump between what else need to get ticked off my to-do list, making sure we get in time with friends, and what it will be like to live in Seattle. My heart can't wait to squeeze my nieces and nephews, but is also dreading the last time I hug the necks of the friends we love so dearly.

There's so much "in-between."
I guess this is transition.
You aren't quite gone, but you don't feel "there" yet, either.
You've got one foot in the door of what's made you who you are, and the other newly planted in who you will become.

Yet somehow, in this "in-between," I've realized more fully than ever that there is one place I will always belong. There is one home that I never have to leave.
My home is with Christ.
He is my constant resting place. Though my life may be scattered among a million moving boxes, He is the home that is always intact, doors constantly wide open.

I imagine that after our move, I will feel spread out and wobbly-footed for quite some time.
Boxes will take awhile to unpack, we'll miss the consistency of our old life. And as I write this, I literally don't know where we will live after our first few months in Washington.

But my heart takes courage in a God who is my home.

Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there...if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast. 
(Psalm 139:7-10.)

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