life

Can You Ever Go Home?

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Hey Friends,

I hope you are kicking off this month of Thanksgiving in some wonderful way. I walked along the beach this morning on a path I haven’t done in months. I used to do it all the time. But in the last year I have taken not one, but two, nasty falls on that route. Both times I was enjoying my music and evidently not paying enough attention to the little variations on the sidewalk. Both times I scarred my knee and hurt my wrist. So I tried to be so careful today. No music, just enjoying the cooler temps and the beautiful sights. And in some ways this feels like home. We’ve lived here for more than three years now and I have memories from this precise area since I was eleven years old. We got engaged here. We have a ton of great memories here. We have a wonderful church community and I feel known and loved.

But in some ways, nothing feels like home. My first eighteen years were spent in Michigan, but obviously that was a long time ago. I spent a total of seventeen years of adulthood in Northern Virginia and as much as I love it there and have wonderful friends there, it doesn’t feel like home. I visited just last week and the “this is not home” sentiment feels a little sad. I had babies there. I was flooded with memories practically everywhere I went. But still, it was not home.

Our two older sons graduated from high school while we lived in Tennessee, and there were some tremendous blessings in that season. But as charming and beautiful as it is there, I haven’t felt like it’s home when I have visited.

Truly, nowhere feels like home. But maybe that’s a gift. Maybe the nomadic life leaves you with an openhandedness that is healthy. I do not feel like I have to live in a particular place to be happy. In fact, I feel pretty confident that I could live almost anywhere and soak up whatever a certain locale has to offer. Maybe because I don’t have an earthly home like some do, my longing for an eternal home is stronger. I hope that’s the case, because all of us are just passing through.

As Paul writes in Philippians 3:20-21, “But our citizenship is in heaven, and from it we await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ, who will transform our lowly body to be like his glorious body, by the power that enables him even to subject all things to himself.”

Everything and everyone is subject to Him. One day my lowly body– that trips and falls– will be like Jesus, glorious beyond imagining. And what comfort to know that I cannot be plucked from His hand. My citizenship is sure, written in the Lamb’s Book of Life. Yes, that is home.

What is home to you?

With Love,

Kristie

Peopled Out

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Hi Friends,

I feel bad saying this, but sometimes I get peopled out. My day-to-day life is pretty quiet. Some might even describe it as dull. And then on rare occasions, I have one social engagement after another. I wish these events could be evenly distributed. I think I would be better at socializing if these things didn’t tend to get stacked up. Living in Florida, people want to visit in the spring. I would too. It’s incredible. But I wish people would visit…not all at once.

In the last two weeks, I have seen a slew of people I love. On June 25, Will and I drove up to Orlando to have dinner with his two best friends from childhood, one of whom lives in Texas. Their wives are wonderful and I loved being with them. It was such a sweet night. Two days later, we flew to Michigan and stayed with my sister and her husband and son. My cousin and her daughter swung by too. The next day, we hung out with my best friend from sixth grade, and then we landed at our vacation spot, where I am related, somewhat distantly, with a fantastic crew of probably fifty people. A few hours after we checked in, my niece arrived with her four children, all seven and under. I adore these people. The ten-month-old baby fell asleep on me and really, what is better? Plus, all my guys were there. We had fun plans to see some beautiful places and also chill on the beach. I want to be thankful for every minute, but the truth is I get peopled out. My social battery, as one of my sons puts it, gets depleted. Add any element of hurt feelings (kind of inevitable every once in a while) and I crave some time alone.

But God has a sense of humor. On Thursday afternoon, my last day in Michigan, I found myself with a book on a bench outside of a library. I sat down and exhaled like it was a spa. The sun was shining. A gentle breeze was blowing, intermittently. But before I got through a chapter, an older woman came and sat, too. She struck up a conversation by commenting on my tan. Ninety minutes later I had not read another word, but this woman, Linda, felt like a dear friend. Her husband passed away unexpectedly at the end of May. She was in the midst of unbearable grief and I hope I provided some encouragement. She told me some hilarious stories as well, and I oddly walked away feeling lighter. Somehow the old social battery wasn’t as dead as I thought. Or Linda somehow charged it.

Either way it was further proof of the Proverb: “The heart of man plans his way, but the Lord establishes his steps.” (Proverbs 16:9).

Making a new friend was not at all what I thought I needed, but God knew. I am going to send Linda a book or two on grief, if you happen to have any good recommendations.

With Love,

Kristie

Amy Boyd Was Right

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When I was growing up I went to public school, except for first grade, when I went to school with all three of my siblings at Temple Christian in Redford, Michigan. My eldest brother was a senior, my sister was a junior and my other brother was in eighth grade. I am sure I would have been more of a mascot for all their friends if I wasn’t already so dang tall for a first grader. Still, I did receive a good bit of attention — certainly no one else in first grade drove to school with a senior on the basketball team. Sometimes much younger children have a hard time fitting in with their peers, as they’ve been exposed to the humor of the family and enjoy frequent outings past the bedtimes of most classmates. However, I must have had some friends, because my teacher, Miss Amy Boyd, taped my mouth shut for talking.

I don’t think you could do that today, even in a private school. But it was a memorable experience. The first time Miss Boyd ripped off the tape it hurt like the dickens. Subsequent tapings though were not as effective because I was wise to it. The trick was to move your mouth quite a bit while it was taped. This made removal relatively painless.

But guess what amps up sleep quality like nothing else I have experienced? Taping your mouth shut. Funny that in a weird twist of fate, my first grade teacher was on to something. It’s the breathing through your nose. The nights I tape my mouth shut with surgical tape, I wake up feeling more rested in the morning. Like a lot more rested. You can consciously breathe through your nose during the day, utilizing God’s built-in air filtration system, but most of us can’t do that while sleeping. Plus, it’s pretty hard, but not impossible, to snore through your nose.

Can focusing on breath really help you feel better? I believe it can. The older I get, the more I think “little” things matter. I believe fresh air, feet in the sand, and a little sunshine are healing too. God gave us lots of little gifts to enjoy and we honor Him by doing so — by soaking them up. Being still and breathing deeply are calming. Giving thanks brings joy. Sometimes the answers really are simple. But we don’t do them by default. Walking with God — abiding in Him — requires a daily and intentional commitment.

Rankin Wilbourne puts it like this in his book Union with Christ:

“[O]ne of the most challenging aspects of the Christian life — [is] the simple repetitiveness of it. Left, right, left, right. Again and again, over and over. All the way. Every day. Like a long walk uphill.”

Christina Rossetti has a poem that opens:

Does the road wind up-hill all the way?

Yes, to the very end.

We might prefer to fly. We may wonder if there are any shortcuts. And there are some, but once you find out what they are — humiliation and suffering — you’ll probably prefer to walk.”

It may be uphill all the way, but if you have sweet believing friends to make the trek alongside, reminding each other that the “simple repetitiveness” will end in glory beyond imagination, then it will seem less steep.

As Paul wrote to the Romans, let us “be mutually encouraged by each other’s faith.” Romans 1: 12.

Blessings,

Kristie

P.S. If you tape your mouth shut, leave a little folded tab to enable quick removal should there be a need.

My Final Load of Laundry

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The other day I did my final load of laundry.

No, it’s not my final FINAL load. But it is the last time I will ever wash an athletic uniform. My youngest son is now officially retired from competitive sports. His basketball team lost in the first round of playoffs last week, and yesterday he turned in his uniforms. Maybe instead of going to games three-ish times a week, I’ll take up the habit of taking an evening stroll!

It is interesting as we get closer to a college decision and empty nesting, how it makes you aware of such things as a final load of laundry. By God’s grace, I think I have been pretty good at savoring the seasons. I loved cuddling my newborns. I adored the daily laughs of toddlerhood and the joy of their simplest of pleasures. Would that a wand and some bubbles could so satisfy us as adults! How gratifying to see my sons learn to read, to work hard at sports, to make friends, to navigate big changes like moving states. How wonderful to witness them ask deep questions and embrace a biblical worldview! This last season has been a sweet one with just one at home — three years of just us three.

I don’t want to be the kind of person that longs for something other than what God has for me. I don’t want to be a sad empty nester. I am sure the college drop off will be tearful, but I want to bounce back quickly and cherish that new season and whatever it brings. I can always look back with gratitude that I had the opportunity to quit my job as a lawyer and be a full-time mom. It wasn’t a hard decision and it was one I’ve never regretted. I do not know what I’ll do in this next decade, but I am excited to find out.

The world wants us to feel less than satisfied without the obtaining the latest gadget or achieving the latest look, but the Bible teaches to be content in all circumstances, to recognize that seasons come and go, but that God is faithful. Today I heard a teenage girl recite this poem.

Dust if You Must

Dust if you must, but wouldn’t it be better 
To paint a picture, or write a letter,
Bake a cake, or plant a seed;
Ponder the difference between want and need?

Dust if you must, but there’s not much time,
With rivers to swim, and mountains to climb;
Music to hear, and books to read;
Friends to cherish, and a life to lead.

Dust if you must, but the world’s out there 
With the sun in your eyes, and the wind in your hair;
A flutter of snow, a shower of rain,
This day will not come round again.

Dust if you must, but bear in mind,
Old age will come and it’s not kind.
And when you go (and go you must)
You, yourself, will make more dust.
By Rose Milligan.

I’m not very knowledgeable about poetry, but the poems I like best are like this one — sweet and simple, but also poignant. After all, we are indeed on our way to returning to dust; our bodies and all our stuff will be mere dust. Shouldn’t we be thankful for the blessings of today?

Fortunately, our souls are eternal, God’s Word is eternal, and His steadfast love endures forever. Psalm 136.

Blessings,

Kristie