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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