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Jul 29, 2014


I feel like I have so many things that I want to say, but don't know how to, so I just haven't. It's not quite like writers' block, it's more of... do I really want to share? I've always been honest here, this little corner of the internet that I call my own is a safe space and I know that there are many more people who read this than I think, and many more people who are loving and praying for me than I know. So here's my heart.

I've been thinking about the idea of home lately. It's one of the most beautiful words in the world, but also one of the hardest to define.

I used to think that home was a physical place where you reside with your family that can hold your physical belongings, such as your bed, your forks, your toaster, and that mixer you never use. Since stepping into the missionary life (and I've only just gotten my toes wet compared to some), I'm learning that home is a whole lot more.
via Pinterest
When we arrived in Belgium, people often asked me where we live (as in, where is your home). People were only trying to show that they care and are interested in us, but I started to hate that question, because I don't have an easy answer. Right now, I live in Belgium. Three months ago I lived in Wisconsin. A year ago I lived in Florida. In a few weeks, I will live in Arizona. In a year, I will live in Papua New Guinea.

Of course, I consider Florida my home. It's where my family, church, and many of my friends live. It's where I was born and grew up, and where I got married. And I know that there are many people who would take me in and give me a home if I showed up on their doorstep. Alternatively, there are people in Wisconsin, Arizona, and Belgium who would give me a home, too. However, if I'm ever not in missions work, I would live in Florida. Florida's in my blood (along with collard greens, sunshine, anything fried, spanish moss, mason jars, sweet tea, and twang).
via Pinterest
But I don't live there. Right now all of mine and Josh's earthly possessions are in our suitcases, carry-ons, and backpacks. We're entirely mobile. It's scary and freeing at the same time. As a home-body, I find comfort in having a place to go back to where my kitchen is set up how I like it with my mismatched appliances and my pictures on my walls. When I realized that I don't have that, it totally threw me for a loop.

I am learning to focus on what I do have and that home really is where your husband is. I may not own a toaster right now, but in Papua New Guinea, there is enough stuff to fill a house there. How amazing is that? And Josh has never once misled me and I know that if I'm with him, we can face anything thrown at us. I am at home when I'm with him. {I feel like I also need to write that this doesn't discount that Jesus is the One who provides, leads and is our strength and home. I'm just focusing on the godly husband that Jesus has given me.} I think I have been enabled to make a home anywhere now that I realize that home is not a physical place where you reside with your family and keep your bed, your forks, your toaster and that mixer you never use. 

Home is holding the hand of your husband, wherever in the world that may be.