Settling in

(woke up to see Deveraux reading in bed, delight!)

(day before he turns 3...)
Sometimes it is still hard to believe we live here. We have moved and live in California! It's difficult to get away from the fact that it is probably temporary, the "newness" feel, and the "renting" feel aid in that as well as the fact that we knew this would not be a long stay due to Andrew's job. Yet, I want to live as though we live here even though there is no guarantee for how long. I was thinking about moving and how after the vacation/adventure feeling wears off, you realize this is your new home for however long and yet the "feeling" of home stills feels distant.

So you try to find a reference point-what feels familiar-what smell, sight, feeling is a reference to something you can hang onto. Maybe it is something familiar of a past home that you can attach onto the new home...there is not much of a past that has been created in the new place, it takes time. I have felt some "tuggings" of something familiar here to our past in other places, but not enough for this to feel like home yet. "Home" takes a long time. I wonder if pilgrims ever get a sense of home, is home in themselves and family, is home to be waited for...for our heavenly Home one day...is home in God...

I remember reading a Kathleen Norris book, Dakota. She wrote a deeply, She spoke about once you can make a home in the desert (where she found herself physically but also seemed to grow into a metaphorical concept)we can have home anywhere. If I remember, the idea was if we ever find ourselves in the desert (a new home, an isolated place, unfamiliar surroundings) and we find a sense of home then we will be home anywhere. I believe this cannot be separated from God, a home this side of heaven that we can find with God then it does not matter where the road takes us. It has been awhile since I have read this book and after writing this and remembering, I want to pick the book up again soon.

I found a good section in the book to quote:

"Unable to sleep, I've been reading the words of a modern monk:"You have only to let the place happen to you...the loneliness, the silence, the poverty, the futility, indeed the stillness of your life."

A warm front is passing through. The great vault of sky is painted with high, feathery clouds; the ribs of a leviathan, or angel's wings. I can no longer see my breath. I stand in the yard a long time, looking at the night.

One of the old ones was asked,"What is it necessary for the monk to be?" And he said, "According to me, alone with the Alone."