I was sweeping the floor under the dining room table last night; Kyle was washing the dinner dishes. It was that sweet moment of the day: the kids are tucked in bed, but it’s not so late yet that I can no longer keep my eyes open.
“I’ve been dealing with really frustrating, conflicting thoughts lately,” I started. “I feel like in one day, I’ll be swept over with this overwhelming desire to just plant some roots and dig ourselves deep in one location for a long time, and then five minutes later, I’ll miss our overseas life, where we traveled all the time and never knew where home would be in a year’s time.”
“Wow, there’s something really wrong with you,” Kyle teased.
“I’m serious. Or like school. I’ll be so excited about the fact that we can homeschool, loving every minute of it. And then an hour later, I’ll be seriously questioning our sanity, and wondering why on earth we’re making it hard on ourselves by doing it.”
I’m actually this way with so many things. I’ll love that our house is teeny-tiny, but then I’ll think about how nice it would be to have just one extra bedroom. Or I’ll relish in the bliss of living right at the base of mountains, and then not five minutes later, miss living near the beach.
I’ll love that the two of us both work from home, but then I’ll wonder if life would be less crazy if we had an office somewhere.
I’ll be glad we live in a small town, but a second later, I’ll wish we lived back in a big city.
Heck, I’ll even order the salad, and then look at Kyle’s burger and wonder why I didn’t order that.
I am a mess.
“Do you ever feel this way?” I asked Kyle.
“Oh sure. I miss a lot of the places where we’ve traveled and lived.”
“But more than just miss. Really wonder if where we are, doing what we’re doing, is the best thing for our family. Do you ever feel like the ‘best’ thing is just around the corner?”
“I guess sometimes I wonder if the very opposite of what we’re doing is what we’re supposed to be doing.”
I went back to sweeping. And then I had that head smack moment. It’s the thing that cycles in my life routinely; the liturgical reminder from God. (You know how it is that God seems to do that? That there’s a Big Theme in your life that God wants you to learn, over and over?)
“If I discover within 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
The reason I want to live somewhere different every five minutes is because there is nowhere, literally, on God’s green earth that will make me happy. It’s a lovely ball hurling through space, yes, but it’s not Home. His fingerprints are smeared all over the place, from Mt. Everest to an infant’s toes, but it’s not where I’ll ever feel…. right. At peace. Satisfied.
That doesn’t mean I shouldn’t listen to God’s voice for where I need to be, what I need to be doing, when to move and when to stay still. But it does mean that although I want to be all over the place geographically, I must always find my roots buried in Him.
He is at work all over the world, and in many ways, He doesn’t care where I live on it. But He cares about my heart. And He wants me to find peace where He is. Which is everywhere.
You’ll see my night’s reminder here—that the grass really is greener where I water it, because He is there, too. So I finish sweeping the floor, and a few hours later, pull the cord on the nightstand lamp, and tuck in to my earthly bed.
We may live in another country in a year, or we may still be here in Oregon. It doesn’t really matter. One day, eventually, I’ll finally be Home. And it’ll scratch that itch of satisfaction and peace.
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