Home? Such a strange word. We moved out of our home 8 weeks ago. We
got rid of a lot of stuff in preparation for our upcoming move across
the Mississippi, put most of our stuff in storage, stored a few of our
more fragile/ valuable items at the homes of friends, put too much of
our stuff in the van (there are 6 of us and we brought stuff for warm
and cold weather and stuff for camping) and took off.
Over the last 8 weeks our home base has been our van as we've
travelled (though we've only slept in it for one night). As we arrived
back in New York part if me said, "Yay, we're home" but reality is...
we don't have a home and won't for several more weeks.
God has graciously provided for us over the last 8 weeks and we've had
the opportunity to catch up with several friends along the way but we
haven't been home (though this past weekend's visit to Lowville felt
almost like it with our kids going in all different directions for
play dates and sleep overs and the chance to hang out with friends).
One thing that being homeless always reminds me of is the fact that
this world is not my home. We find out the city of our next earthly
home on Friday but, ultimately, we won't be home when we get there
either. It will just be our next temporary residence as we long for
our forever, permanent home in heaven (where we get to be with our
Savior forever and when we'll never have to move again!)
But you, Lord, are a shield around me,
my glory, the One who lifts my head high. I call out to the Lord,
and he answers me from his holy mountain. I lie down and sleep;
I wake again, because the Lord sustains me. (Psalm 3:3-5 NIV)