Scattered Thoughts

Less frazzled than the last post. Fo sho. Another completely beautiful week with family helped. A vacation rental at a fraction of the normal cost is also a blessing while we anxiously await the closing on a new house. I'm really, really excited about the new house, but here is a beautiful place for now.

For those who wish to know, Una is adjusting beautifully. She gets a long run on one of the many bike trails followed by breakfast and time with the girls. Her favorite, however, seems to be sitting on the deck watching the squirrels run through the park across the street. Yesterday she bolted into Lake Michigan chasing seagulls. We're not sure if she underestimated the distance or if she meant to do that. According to husband, she looked very surprised, somewhat sheepish, but was very proud to discover she could swim.

The days are already cool and brisk, but warm in the sun.

Heidi seems to be homesick. She wants to send letters to people. She wants to know what I miss about New Mexico. She remembers everything: the birthday cake she painted with Miss Margaret, the doll from Mrs. Linno, and the night we watched fireworks in the park with Abigail, Cayley, and Aubrey. It is amazing to me to hear her asking about these things.

Moving always makes me think harder about home. Like, where it really is. It has been the great question of my life, a life of many moves. We watched "date night" earlier this summer--kind of funny--but there was this bizarre scene with a low-life couple, sparing the details....anyway, they have to run away and the girl says "but this is our home," and the boy pounds his heart and says over and over "this is your home. This is your home." There is something true there. I can't quite place it. Something in between the cliches of saying our home is in heaven, which is completely TRUE but hard to feel. Until you are without a current home. But also something in how we are supposed to represent heaven, as churches, as families, as the body of Christ. How, in family and fellowship, we are to be Home to each other and to the homeless. The longing I feel for my own bed (do you miss your bed?, Heidi asks) is not always the same as the longing I feel for heaven. But when I'm standing over the grave of a loved one, it all becomes the same.