Longing for Home


I packed the first closet today.  An ugly stack of boxes is now in plain sight against one of our walls, a constant reminder to me of the chore and the change ahead of us.

Our landlord told us a few days ago that we would need to be moving out by the end of September so her parents, relocating from Switzerland, can move in.  We have called this place home for 4 years now, the longest we have ever stayed in one spot.  Our time in this house has certainly had its ups and downs (read: major mold infestation last summer, massive rattlesnakes + copperheads), but these four walls have held the sweetest memories of our lives.


Both of my babies have come home from the hospital in the dead frigid cold of December to these walls.  To this wood stove crackling every day with heat.  It’s hard for me to imagine bringing home baby number 3 to any other place, especially a totally as-of-yet-unknown place.

Maybe it’s just pregnancy and all the accompanying hormones (yay for those!), maybe it’s just because I have a hard time letting anything go.  But it’s painful to pull out boxes, to take pictures and paintings quietly off walls and wrap them, tuck them away.  Pulling down memories, tucking them away.

Maybe it’s because my nesting urges are just starting to kick in, and we’re having to fly the nest.  Maybe it’s because a sense of place is so important to me, a sense of home, and I don’t have the energy right now to start over.  Or, let’s be honest, I just don’t want to.

Whatever “it” is, I almost can’t talk about it because I’m just really sad.  And I’m okay with that.  It’s wouldn’t be human for me not to be sad.

In the midst of that, God gave me words immediately to meditate on and keep always before me in these coming weeks.


He is so faithful.  I am confident He is going before us and opening the way before us, and that He will provide a peaceful, secure home for us.  It may not have the crazy good view this home has, or the seclusion and privacy.  It may not have the space to garden, or that third bedroom for baby girl.  It may not have all the glorious sunlight we get all day long in this home.  It can’t possibly have neighbors as great as the ones next door to us here who have been our adopted grandparents.

But it will be the place of His choosing.  And He is our home, our lives are hidden away in Him, found in Him, unshakeably secure in Him.

And while others around the world are holding loved ones dying from Ebola, dying in the bombings in Hamas, dying from an unexpected allergic reaction to yellow jackets, I have all my loved ones here.


I’m reminded that our “suffering” is so very mild.  We have so much to be thankful for, even in this.  We have each other.  We are healthy and able-bodied and we get to do the adventure of life together.  We have Jesus, and He is enough.

We have His promises:

He will never leave us, nor forsake us {Heb. 13:5}.
He will go before us and guide us, and be our rear guard {Deut. 31:8}.
He will keep His hand upon us {Psa. 139:5}.
He will provide for all our needs {Phil. 4:19}.
Even the sparrow finds a home at His altar {Psa. 84:3}, and if He cares for the sparrows, how much more does He care for us {Matt. 6:26}?
And every sense of longing for home always reveals to us our deeper long for Home with Him, in that far country, in that city whose builder and maker is God {Heb.11:10, 16}.

In all things, I have a reason to sing.