I’m sitting in our Fort, aka office/bedroom closet, and all I can really do is sigh at the sillyness of it and smile (I promise to take photos of it when it’s completely done). The other night, Kabob and I were sorting through some barely-used items that are making a home on our patio, trying desperately to unghetto-fy our slab of concrete. Tate loves being outside, and we want to make a small space for her because we don’t have a yard. It seems like we are constantly moving piles and stacks from one corner of the home to another, since we only have just under 1000 square feet, and we are a family who needs more space than that. For me, apartment living and renting has been the hardest part of preparing to move overseas, along with the perpetual living-out-of-a-suitcase lifestyle.

Last summer, we came to a crossroads as to whether we still wanted to make this major cross-cultural move. We’ve been independently preparing ourselves for this career for more than 10 years, and most certainly for all (now) four years of our marriage. After awhile, when it seems like the deputation process will never end, and the road isn’t getting any smoother, you begin to wonder if God really is calling you to it. You feel like it would just be easier to throw in the towel, buy a house, paint the walls the way you want them, and throw away those boxes for good. And we came mighty close to considering it.

But God, in His amazing grace, not only refueled our desire to live overseas, He gave us the gift of living in a particular place among a particular people that we absolutely love, something we didn’t see happening for awhile. When we finally surrendered to doing whatever the heck He wanted for us, He gave us our heart’s desire. Funny how that happens.

But I don’t want to digress. Back in the closet, here I am, sorta wishing we lived a normal life, normal in the American sense, like most of our friends. It would be so great to have a yard, just a small yard, where Tate can tumble. It would be awesome to have a kitchen that my cabinetmaking husband could redesign. I would love to tear up our disgusting carpet and put in something I really loved, like hardwood or stained concrete. But really… Would I be satisfied and happy if I had these things? I know the answer to this one.

This world is not my home, I’m just-a-passing through
My pleasure and my hopes are placed beyond the blue…
…If heaven’s not my home, oh Lord what will I do
Angels beckon me to heaven’s open door
And I can’t feel at home in this world anymore

As the old spiritual says, I just can’t feel at home in this world. I’m made for another. So while we trudge through this last (hopefully) year of preparation, while I pack up our boxes one more time and drag our little family across the country for conferences and the like, and while I type and file out of our makeshift office, I am blessed. I am blessed because I am given a daily reminder that my residency is just temporary. Kabob and I made a decision when we were engaged to only live with the essentials. We wanted to be able to pack and move within a month’s notice, and while it sometimes feels like we’re sitting on clutter on top of clutter, I know we’ve done well with this. We really do only have our essentials. We are blessed to be a small part of something huge, and I’ll take that over a backyard.

Now, in what box did I put that shirt I want to wear today?

posted: 06 April 5
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