Little Birds and Some Bees: 15 And Counting...

I found myself wondering today how many more times in my life I will wake up and have to re-orient myself to my surroundings, reminding myself that I am no longer in my former home. Spending the first night in a new place seems to always be followed by that odd feeling the next day when you wake up and realize that you just hauled all your earthly processions to this new 'home.' It's all a journey, but in my 29-years, 17 solid years of them were lived underneath the same roof. About the only thing that moved was the occasional piece of furniture or a picture frame - and even then it was rare. My parents planned their home, built it, furnished it, and kept it the same throughout my life except for a few remodeling projects. I guess I thought that was what most people do... apparently not. Since our wedding day Jonathan and I have moved a total of 15 times, that's an average of 2.15 times per year. I'm exhausted, especially since each and every move has involved Jon, me, our parents, whoever we can round up to help us, and a rental truck. Each item boxed and loaded and then unloaded and unpacked by yours truly.

I'm so over having stuff. The more I've moved, the more loosely I'm able to hold on to my processions, and with each move my pile to give to Goodwill or wherever gets larger and larger. I have learned to live on less and to really appreciate having less. I think that I can honestly say that less IS actually more.

Saying Goodbye to the home we first moved into when we arrived in Atlanta

But probably what has sunk more deeply into the core of my being, a realization so profound that it continues to echo in my mind as I pack and unpack and pack and unpack... I am not home yet. For the last two years we have had a great portion of our things boxed up and stored and there are moments when I cannot wait to finally settle down and be able to really unpack. But in more honest moments, when the mirage of stability has faded, I realize that even when I am am fully settled the dull ache for something more will again surface. I am on a pilgrimage and any place that I call home on this side of heaven is merely a watered down version, weak at best, of what I have waiting for me. What I'm really wanting is to be home - heaven home - to finally unpack, settle down, feel at home, and stay forever. And that one certain desire must continue to wait and grow, for now.

Getting Ready to Unload

Hannah having an artistic moment in her dress Meme gave to her.

For most of our moves, it usually takes several days to a week plus to get fully settled into our home. For this particular move we were able to do it in a day. I'm convinced it was God's grace poured out.

Snack time in the 'Tennessee House' - as they call it

Day 3 of being here and we've already made a trip to the river. The kiddos really enjoyed a trick that I learned during my days teaching, rubbing rocks (wet) together to create 'paint.' We had a little face painting session. They of course loved doing that and seeing how wet they could actually get without swimming.