Moves catch people off guard. Our temporary move to Orlando surprised everyone, even us. We were as settled as could be with no reason for disturbance.
Long story aside, we knew it was our next. Our plans to return to Michigan were (and are) as good as a money-back guarantee. We would spend a year living not at home and then we would be back.
Preparations made. Bags packed. Goodbyes done.
Our people were kind with parties and sendoffs. Goodbyes aren’t my strong suit. I avoid the dramatic. I manage away the emotions. I’m workin’ on it.
We left mid-day without fanfare.
Our last stop in town was the boys’ final session of baseball camp.
The session where every other mom knew it was picture day. With those purple camp shirts.
The purple shirts #movingmom used to wrap the Pyrex.
This is what a formerly-packed car looks like in the baseball camp parking lot as #movingmom lets the news sink in. I could pull my hair out. Or I could take pictures.
Some times you miss the memo. Some times you get to pack the car twice.
Fast-forward to September. Month 1. I’m in a conversation with a new friend.
We were sitting in and on borrowed space, but we weren’t discussing my un-decorated apartment, my uncomfortable (& unsightly) couch nor my unfamiliar city. The context of the conversation is long forgotten, but I remember this verse:
For this world is not our permanent home;
we are looking forward to a home yet to come.
I’d heard it before.
But, as I sat
on my (thankfully) non-permanent couch,
in my non-permanent home,
in my non-permanent city,
in my non-permanent state,
that spiritual truth dug deep.
For the past year, that truth was a zoom lens over my life.
I couldn’t help but see my temporary life in Orlando as a clear picture of my spiritual reality: living in this world while I am looking forward to a [permanent] home yet to come.
It was affirmed by two of my favorite authors:
“If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy,
the most probable explanation
is that I was made for another world.”
C. S. Lewis, Mere Christianity, New York, Macmillan, 1960, p. 119
How do I keep home in view yet live in the moment?
Why am I here and what do I do?
How do I settle in yet not too deeply root?
How do I identify with those who are here to stay?
What and who do I invest in?
Do I live as a foreigner or a local?
How do I eventually transition home?
These are very real wrestlings as I dwell in my temporary home in Orlando.
These are very real wrestlings as I dwell in my temporary home on earth, considering my life through an eternal lens.
Make yourself at home as I unpack what it means to live and thrive in a place that is #notmyhome.
[This post is #1 in the #notmyhome series]
Part 2: Homesicking
Part 3: Purposing
Part 4: Familiaring
Part 5: Identifying
Part 6: Hoarding
Part 7: Simplifying
Part 8: Investing
Part 9: Sojourning
Part 10: Borrowing
Part 11: Departing
Part 12: Reflecting