I’m getting ready to move again.  Sure that doesn’t seem like a big deal, but it’s the fifth move since I came to Florida in 2010.  In not quite three years, I’ve bounced from one house to another, always looking for a home, a place to hang my hat(s) and stay put.  I’m starting to feel a little like Moses looking for the Promised Land, or at least some of those squeaky children of Israel, wondering and wandering an eleven mile course, never quite finding the door.  Moving now and then can feel like a good thing, almost therapeutic as you divest yourself of the things you know you’ve hung on to way too long, those clothes in your closet that never seem to see the light of day.  But, moving five times in less than three years somehow loses the charms of closet cleaning, not to mention it gets harder to find friends who are willing to help you pack it all up and shift it over to another floor plan once again.

But, you know enough about me by now to guess that as much as something might challenge my packing muscles, I have to look for the good side.  What is it that makes me a moving target? What is it that qualifies me to be so fluid in the things I do, that I can pack it all on  a passing camel and keep going.  Hmmm?  I guess it all comes down to an awareness that like some kind of boll weevil in a folk song, I’m just “lookin’ for a home.”  It’s funny because I’ve been looking for this home since I was born.  If I had to come up with a number, I’d guess that I’ve moved over thirty times, from state to state, city to city, or house to house.  I’m the start over Queen.  I have the tiara and the tee-shirt to prove it.  Okay, so where’s the prize in the bottom of the Cracker Jacks?  Where’s the good news about living from box to box?

If I had to come up with an answer, I’d say this.  I believe that God’s grace is fresh every morning and like my favorite Starbuck’s flavor, is ready for me each time I put in a request for it.  I believe that with that grace, comes a little sense of adventure, a little invitation to keep walking in the desert because there’s something wonderful just up ahead.  I believe that in each house I’ve lived in for a few months here and there in my Florida life, or any of the other places before it…Costa Rica, Nashville, Colorado Springs…that the One who holds the light and knows exactly where I’m going is always just ahead, preparing a little bit of extra joy because I was willing to step out in faith one more time, willing to pack up and go, one more time.  The further good news about moving around I guess is that I get to see a lot of God’s favorite people who are living in a variety of places, and I get to understand and know that I’m not alone, that He has planted His family anywhere I will go next.  I get to remember that nothing is permanent, except the love that is shared as I connect to each person with an open heart, a welcoming smile, and a little grace.  That’s the spot!  That’s the place that really is “home” for me.

Thanks to all of you everywhere who are part of my family, who give me a sense of joy each time the doorbell rings.  So, think of me wandering just a bit, pulling a few things together until I get to my new front door. Come visit, okay?