“What Did You Say, Daddy?”

Hi Friends,

Two things are a bit of surprise in recent days: (1) I am busier than I’ve ever been in my life; and (2) I find myself in Orlando, Florida with fair frequency. Despite never having much affection for O-town or Disney or International Drive, my life keeps intersecting with it. I went to college near it, got married near it, have lived near it on two different occasions, and have spent weeks there for various athletic events and conferences. Now I find myself living somewhat near it again and my husband’s job keeps taking us there. The last couple nights we stayed at a pretty spectacular resort that did not feel like it was near Disney, except for the fact that you could see Epcot from the rooftop bar.

This morning we were heading back to our room after getting in our usual Saturday morning walk. In the lobby we passed by a family of four. The parents, along with a little girl and little boy, looked ready to hit the pool. They also looked extremely happy. The little boy half skipping, half running beside his father.

“What did you say, Daddy?” he squeaked out in his tiny little voice.

I cannot fully explain why but the reverence and joy of this little guy felt profound. We looked at each other and silently agreed on the fleeting sweetness. Every season has had its own blessings, empty nesting included — the wide open evenings and ability to do whatever we want on the weekends, even last minute. It’s nice. Plus the dinner tabs for two compared to five are pretty modest, even with insane inflation.

Still, the adoration and unquestioning trust of that sweet little boy almost made me want to tear up. But maybe it’s not about wishing for yesteryear. Maybe it hits a tender nerve because that should be my posture every day of every year.

Maybe I should be opening my Bible every morning with awe and reverence and unconditional trust: What did you say, Daddy?

Psalm 119: 33-37

Teach me, O Lord, the way of your statutes; and I will keep it to the end. Give me understanding, that I may keep your law and observe it with my whole heart. Lead me in the path of your commandments, for I delight in it. Incline my heart to your testimonies, and not to selfish gain! Turn my eyes from looking at worthless things; and give me life in your ways.

With Love,

Kristie

Can You Ever Go Home?

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

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