The house of my sojourning.

33

I laughed yesterday morning before I ever climbed out of the sheets.

I woke up 33 yesterday. In a bunk bed. In a room full of stuffed animals and children’s books. This on a birthday where I feel like, for the first time in adulthood, I finally feel my age. Where I look in the mirror and see a mid-30s woman, not a “you still look like you’re 25” girl.

Heather met me in the hallway, teasing me about my accommodations.

“Did you snuggle with the teddy bear I left in there for you?”

Heather is amazing.

She beat me to 33 by only a few months, and she’s in the homestretch of becoming a foster parent. That’s why the bunk beds and the perfectly put together kids’ room overflowing with toys and books and Scripture placards.

I was her first charge on the eve of my birthday. She and several other friends kindly let me stay with them occasionally when I’m in their neck of the woods this year while I’m in transition.

Since 30, I’ve been in transition. At least to a degree.

“Do you ever get tired of living out of a suitcase? Do you ever just want your own bed?”

That’s a good, good question.

Yes. Yes I do.

Sometimes, anyway.

Over the past few years, I’ve started to feel more like a professional backpacker than a resident of anywhere. My toiletries stay in bags always. I could have a “go” bag ready in seconds. I’ve slept on the ground, in hostels, bathrooms, hotels, tents, planes, trains and airports. I even slept in a Starbucks once.

The adventure girl inside me loves that. I love the packing. I love the traveling. More than anything, I love the people and I love the stories. They light me up.

That part of me I hope will never change.

But eyes of the 33-year-old woman I see staring back at me in the mirror has crow’s feet stretching a bit further these days, and I’m convinced they’re not from the miles but from the goodbyes. From unexpected death that snatches people we love. From circumstances that move us before we’re ready to go. From the thought of breaking yet again from family and friends. From the thought of how my nearly 3-year-old niece jumps up in my arms now when I come through the door … she didn’t know who I was when I first moved back to the States …

“It’s going to be hard to leave again, isn’t it?”

Some people ask that question. Others ask another.

“I bet you can’t wait to get back, can you?”

The answer to both is yes. It’s hard to explain how you can so badly want to be in two places at once. It’s the torn heart, I think, of everyone who packs up their life and moves overseas. We’re not meant to have to say goodbye.

But as I sat at dinner last night with a handful of friends under two massive Mylar balloons in the shape of 3s (thanks, Elizabeth) I just felt gratefulness. Gratefulness for folks who let me stay in their houses and sleep in their bunk beds and offer me friendship that stretches beyond the moments I’m standing on the same soil as them. Grateful for an incredible family who also happens to be good at Skype and emailing and even gets on a plane and crosses the ocean.

Grateful for a God who gives us tangible reminders of His love but also of the fact that we aren’t home yet.

It’s abundantly clear every night, no matter where I sleep, that my desire isn’t really for a bed so much as it is for a permanent home. One that lasts. One not found here. A home where goodbyes and tears end. And all the traveling, the uncertainty in what’s coming next (in addition to the vast privilege of seeing the Father’s hand at work around the world) reminds me that I’m not here for long, just passing through. My feeble heart needs to be able to pack a bag, roll out a sleeping bag and experience that truth tangibly day after day after day. That’s the only way I’ll remember.

“These all died in faith, not having received the things promised, but having seen them and greeted them from afar, and having acknowledged that they were strangers and exiles on the earth. For people who speak thus make it clear that they are seeking a homeland. If they had been thinking of that land from which they had gone out, they would have had opportunity to return. But as it is, they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared for them a city.” (Hebrews 11:13-16)

I’m ready for that city. Until then, we keep passing through … ambassadors … imploring others to come with us. We pack our bags and go to them. We look to Him for what we need, and we get to know Him a little more every day through prayer, through His Word, through walking with Him to the next place.

“Your statutes have been my songs in the house of my sojourning.” (Psalm 119:54)

Here’s to another year.

23 Comments on “The house of my sojourning.

  1. Your life sounds a lot like mine in many ways. I feel I’ve been transitioning for a couple years now. I’m 34. Single. Trying to figure out what’s next. Can I ask what you do for ministry or for career/vocation/lifestyle that keeps you traveling so much? I’m looking for an ‘about me’ section and can’t find it. Maybe you’ve shared about it in your previous blog posts. Glad I stumbled on your site! Thanks for being so honest!

  2. Girl, I sooooo feel you and I needed to read this. Thank you!

    Hoping to hug your neck in a few weeks!

  3. This is incredible. And I’ve been thinking about this lately, too, as a girl who always wanted to travel before this year. This year I’ve been fonder of the idea of a home. And the way you explain it is so intriguing.

    I just found your blog. Could someone recommend to me some posts that explain what she does? Because this post left me a little confused, being the only post of her’s that I’ve read.

    Also, I occasionally youtube, and if you’re interested, I actually just made a post yesterday about the heartbreak of goodbyes and having pieces of your heart all over the world. ( http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aS3xjaILwgM&feature=c4-overview&list=UUVvo9gSYBX5LUYeXEBEpBJA )

  4. Happy Birthday!!! A little bit late. Reading your blog, I feel like we’re kindred spirits. You’re welcome to come stay with us if you’re ever in need of a spare room in Charleston, SC. Safe journeys!

  5. Beautiful sentiments as I close in on 30! God has so many wonderful blessings ahead. May you never loose the ability to see His work and transformations.

  6. Amazing. I love your writing…the honesty, the vulnerability of it all. I just wonder (not question) why you move around so much. Maybe I will see some answer in your bio but I will be happy to hear from you. Happy birthday Grace. You are a blessing. Crow’s feet show up too when we are delighted. May the joy of the Lord increase in your heart.

  7. Beautiful perspective. Makes me think of a quote I love from the Letters of Samuel Rutherford:
    Be not discouraged to go from this country to another part of the Lord’s earth. This is the Lord’s lower house; while we are lodged here, we have no assurance to lie ever in one chamber, but must be content to remove from one corner of our Lord’s nether house to another, resting in hope that, when we come up to the Lord’s upper city, we shall remove no more, because then we shall be at home. And go wheresoever ye will, if your Lord go with you, ye are at home.
    Believe me, Madam, my mind is that ye are well lodged, and that in your house there are fair easerooms and pleasant lights, if ye can in faith lean down your head upon the breast of Jesus Christ: and till this be, ye shall never get a sound sleep. Jesus, Jesus be your shadow and your covering.

    Happy Birthday! May Jesus be your shadow and your covering in this new year of adventure. . .

  8. Reblogged this on Theology In Brief and commented:
    There are some blogs that are just fun to read, and then there are blogs that are frekin so amazingly heart-felt that you can’t help but share it….and then there are blogs that you wonder whether that person is just writing about you because it’s way too alike your own thoughts, ponderings, loves, and doubts!!
    This is the second time I am “reblogging” this particular Blogger named Grace. She is AMAZING because she has such a better way of describing so much of what I also have experienced. And she just turned 33. I turned 33. So, read this, and know that I am not just merely passing this along as a good read…..it’s actually so much of what I am feeling right now!! Enjoy her post, and pass it on: ….

  9. You always write things that are stuck inside my head that I can’t get out or explain. Thank you so much. I needed that!

  10. We need your words. Thank you for them. Your wandering heart makes me feel okay in my own. See you on the other side :)

  11. Thanks for this reminder. I’ve not slept in as many interesting places as you have (. . . a bathroom?) but I have lived where it was easier than it is now to remember that I’m a pilgrim. Now I mostly walk the same familiar stretch of soil; may I never to forget that this is not my real home!

    Happy birthday, and God’s richest blessings on you in the year ahead.

  12. I don’t know you and you don’t know me, but you’re sure inside my head. Maybe we’ll meet someday over the pond. :)

  13. Absolutely beautiful… I’m emailing this to others that understand exactly what you mean. God bless you. Thanks for sharing this.

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