:: So, is it time to go home yet?
That’s how I’m feeling yesterday and today. Pretty bad, considering it’s only been a few weeks. I know that part of this wanting home is just a need for routine, to really own life here in this little spot. I’m still fumbling with my coffee making procedure, still reaching for the wrong drawer when I need a spoon, still wondering where my toothbrush is — in the cupboard or out? — and still have chaos in my cleaning closet. In time, though, I’ll settle in. Even though it still feels like a strange house, within no time I’ll be able to walk to the kitchen in the pitch black middle of the night, get a glass from the right cupboard, and walk back to bed without nailing my shin on the corner of the boxspring. It will feel like home, if I determine to make it so.
:: Today I need to go grocery shopping for real. I’m so glad that my spice collection traveled well, since that’s the pricey part of a pantry. But I need everything else — flour and oats, eggs and milk, tomatoes and peas, and everything.
:: Finding a church to call home is not easy. Not that I had any illusions about it being anything but hard, but still.
However, as I sit here in my backyard, smelling flowers, soaking up sunshine, loving this Secret Garden that is mine for at least a year, I am reminded of how perfect the Lord’s provision is. Surely, if He could give me a “bit of earth” and a quiet neighborhood — in short, if He could provide me with shelter that is more than just adequate, but above my hopes and dreams, then can’t I trust Him to do the same with a church family? I think so. I’m believing so. And I’m also believing that we’ll know when we find it, because that’s the hard part. You know. All that business about no church is perfect, and if you find one, the minute you join stop being perfect because you’re there? Well, I’m trusting that the Lord will help us to know which not-perfect actually is perfect for us, in this season.
:: Last night at 6:15, I loaded a picnic basket (thank you again, Sheri!) and Jameson (wearing his adorable outfit received from Mrs. Kinnen at his shower) into our red wagon (which we have loved Auntie Bec and Sarah!), and made our way to the park downtown. Ryan met us there, and we spread out a blanket, along with every other young family, and settled in for an hour of music, food, and fun. It’s a little summer tradition, I guess, to eat at the park on Wednesdays while a local group serenades us. At one point, as we were sitting and enjoying Jameson, Ryan looked around and said, “Wow. This is it; the American Dream.”
Yes, there we were, in one of the wealthiest communities in the country, surrounded by young families whose kids are dressed well, who were all eating well, enjoying the luxury of safety and opulence. They’ve arrived, attained what so many strive for.
And Ryan and I had the same thought: Huh. That’s really, really sad.
I’m so, so thankful to know the Lord.
I’m so, so thankful to know that there is eternity.
I’m so, so glad that this isn’t all there is.
And I so, so hope that we’re able to communicate that hope that’s within us while we’re here, living in the middle of American Dream, USA.