I feel a little bit like a whirling tornado writing this. Just last week, we moved across the country for the second time since we said ‘”I do” just 8 months ago. And to be honest, I've felt more like a boiling bucket just trying not to bubble over than I've felt like a human.
But I have bubbled over. I have cried. I have left all my clothes unpacked, thrown my hands up in surrender, and flopped on the bed. I have said those wretched words…”I hate this!”
Okay, maybe I don't really hate it. I don't hate really moving. Change of any kind is exhausting but it's also sanctifying. And maybe what I hate is my stubborn soul's resistance to sanctification sometimes. Maybe that resistance to the uncertainty that big steps of faith bring is really the thing that knocks me on my back.
Matt and I moved from Arizona (his home state) to Indiana (my home state) just over a week ago. The night before we left, we drove down an open road with the windows down, not saying anything but simply holding hands–both of us felt it coming. As we turned the corner, the sky lit up…orange, pink, red and yellow. The mountains turned purple.
“Look,” I hear him say as he peeks through the rearview mirror. I whip my head around just in time to see the sun slowly slip below the horizon.
“Well, the sun has set on our Arizona adventure, Babe.” I say, feeling like my heart had just taken a giant sip of bittersweet coffee.
Change is kind of like that–exciting and depressing all at once. We knew the move out West was temporary. But that final sunset reminded me just how quickly time flies, how months are more like moments and even when you make the most of them, you'll miss em.
The moment our flight touched down in Indianapolis, I felt my heart stop at a fork in the road and it's like it tried to go both directions. In a sense, I was back home. And I was excited. In another sense, I felt further from home than I had in awhile…Arizona and all it's cactus glory had become a home away from home. We still hadn't figured out our living plans for settling in Indiana. All we knew is Matt had work here but 80% of the plans were nonexistent. We just kind of…moved. Not exactly the cup of tea a planner like this girls jives well with. 😉
We checked into our temporary rental and that's when the flood washed over me. I'd been fighting to block out every fear and worry another change would bring for several days. As we packed, as we said goodbye to new friends, and even as we traveled, I held it together. But when I dropped by bags on new soil, it all became real. I would miss the morning sunshine peeking over the mountains, shining through the French doors of our tiny Southwest living room. I would miss driving over to my in-laws, just to lay on the floor with my Mother-in-law and talk. I would miss the coffee shops I'd spend far too many hours in. I'd miss people like Rosie, an elderly woman we gave a ride home to when she missed her bus downtown. I'd miss our church, all our little favorite places, and spontaneous adventures to California and Utah. And I'd REALLY miss my beloved In-N-Out Burger. 😉
Though I was thrilled to be closer to my family, reconnect with old friends, and to settle down, I'd miss all that we left behind. And I hated the feeling of having to start over for the third time…unsure of where to even start this time.
The exhaustion and the weight of worry hit me that first night back on Indiana soil. I hadn't even untied my shoelaces but somehow my heart laces had come undone without my permission. But I just let it come anyway…the tears, the worries, the fear and every feeling in between.
Maybe you've been there or maybe you're right in the middle of it–in the thick fog of change or uncertainty. Maybe you've had to completely start over and rebuild from the ground up. Maybe deep in your soul you know it's right but tears still gather in the corners of your heart. Maybe you're aching and celebrating all at once and not so sure what it all means. Maybe the most healing thing is just letting ourselves feel it instead of fighting it.
My husband wrapped his arms around me. He knew all that was bottled up inside those tears. He knew what my heart said without words passing through my lips. He knew the longing I had just to feel HOME…to feel steady, sure, and secure.
Because I think he felt it too. And he whispered, “I know we don't really have a home right now. But we do, we really do. Home is being together, and together can be anywhere.”
Together is home. Together can be anywhere. Home can be anywhere.
Wow, my heart needed that gentle reminder. And maybe yours does, too. Because although I still haven't totally settled in, although I'm not sure exactly what next week looks like for us, I'm sure there's something more to this moving thing than just boxes and exhaustion. There's a glory that can only be revealed in change. There's a heavenly presence in it that reminds me that ‘home' is not boards and beams held together by nails in the shape of a house. ‘Home' is more like boards and beams shaped like a cross.
Love is a shelter, a safe place that moves with us. God is a refuge unconfined to one place or space. Change and deep uncertainty beg us to live THERE–in love. And maybe we need to make more space for that. Maybe we need to clear a path through the boxes cluttering the home of our heart. Because Love Himself the only unchanging thing .
Change dares us to cling to the Unchanging.Change dares us to cling to the unchanging. Click To Tweet
So, as I walk through this season of change, as I unpack for the third time this year, I hope I can walk alongside of you and remind you that you're really not alone.
I'm learning to shed my dependence on the ever changing, temporary homes we pass through and seek refuge from on this earth and instead to depend only on what's unchanging. It's hard. I'm not sure I'm doing it right and some moments I still cry. But my marriage will be better for it. My experience of God's tangible presence will be better for it. My hope for my real home will grow because of it.
Home really is where the heart is. Home IS the heart. And I want my heart to be a place that welcomes God's moves over fighting change. I want my heart heart in the hands of God and I want my heart to live committed to my husband's heart. Because my heart is home there–in love.
And so it is with you.
So, yeah, we've been moved around a lot but I've also been melted and moved by the power of it, too. Maybe that's what it's all about in the end. Maybe we have to experience change on the outside so we can be changed from the inside.Maybe we have to experience change on the outside so we can be changed from the inside. Click To Tweet
Maybe change isn't so scary after all.