on going home...

So lots of people have asked if I'm busy packin'.  I say, "Slowly," or note the day I boxed up a bunch of empty canning jars and lids (the one thing I was sure I wouldn't need before the end of May), and B.J. came home that same afternoon needing some for a science experiment at school.

Truth is, I've stonewalled.  I've reached the point where packing and moving seem so overwhelming and so inevitable that I've not packed a single thing for some time.  These lovely warm days I'd rather cut the grass with Nathan dozing on my lap or lounge by the kiddie pool, willing time to stand still.  Instead of anticipating the brick house on Birch, I want to stay here and sink my roots into the ground with all the shrubs we've planted over the years.

Which brings to my mind another home awaiting me.  A place I'll go without having to pack anything up, a mansion to which my move is inevitable, the date, non-negotiable, and where, no doubt, I'll be overwhelmed by many things beautiful and new.

And I thank God that this move is moving me to see that there's no place here to plant my roots, that I'm just a stranger here, passin' from one place to the next.  Oh, that I may never loiter on my heavenly journey!

Grace has brought me safe thus far, and grace will lead me home.