Except it wasn't my home. And it turned into the hardest move we have ever made.
We moved to a great house in a great neighborhood. I was ready to start planting roots. I painted the kitchen orange, the dining room red, the living room khaki. I started making window treatments and planting flowers in the yard. Chris hung up the flag pole for all our decorative flags to note every season, birthday and event. I sat on the front porch every morning either on the swing or in the rocking chairs, drank my coffee, and said morning prayer. I worked really hard to convince myself I would live in this house forever, and I would be happy. But after 11 months and multiple hospitalizations, we realized the boys were allergic to the house, so 48 hours later we had moved into a 900 square foot apartment at the seminary.
I didn't even pretend it was home or ever was going to be home. They weren't bad times; actually, we had a lot of fun, and I got to run every day in the beautiful parks surrounding us. But I never settled. Why would I? Obviously we couldn't live there forever. We weren't, however, planning on moving until I had graduated, but in the summer of 2010, we found a house we loved down the street from Chris's brother and his wife. We locked into a great interest rate, and then it all fell through because of the inspection. I was in the middle of CPE (clinical pastoral education--very intense), but we didn't want to lose our locked in rate, so I took 2 days and looked at houses.
Chris said he'd live anywhere except in a neighborhood off Shelbyville Road. I found 2 houses I kind of liked, none I loved, and guess where the two houses were? Yep off Shelbyville Road. Chris looked at them and we settled on one. Settled.
The first morning I went out for a run I felt like a gerbil in a habitrail or a rat in a maze box. That feeling has never gone away. I still miss being able to just run out the door and into the park. Over the years we have done some things to make it "ours." We've painted, added window treatments, replaced the ceiling and floors twice (yeah those aren't good stories--leaking pipes and all). We have rearranged and repurposed. We have planted flowers. And I have continued to complain if not aloud, deep in my heart (sometimes both).
I want a big porch; I want a master bathroom; I want a bigger kitchen; I want...I want...I want.
The truth is I want to feel at home; I want to be home. Over the years, no matter how many times I reminded the children they were all born in Georgia, it became clear Louisville was their home. Now I really felt like an outsider--Chris and the children are "from" here; I just live here.
Except I don't. I don't just live here. I have a life here. I have a vocation and a calling here. I have friends and family and framily here. Over the past week I have talked to my good friend Jerusalem and we have shared our "twinkie" stories, and I have read Jeremiah 29 over and over and over. "Build houses and settle down" (Jeremiah 29:5) runs through my mind non-stop. Well, to be honest, the "settle down" part does. Settle down--settle down---settle down. I am committed to trying to do just that. (remember the verb is trying)
I awoke Saturday with a plan. Off to run errands I went returning home with a flag pole. I asked (it might have sounded like a neurotic order) Chris to find the drill. The temperatures were below freezing and it was intermittently snowing. Chris, "Let's wait to do this until it's a little bit warmer." I'm not sure what my face looked like, and I'm pretty sure he was thinking, "We've lived in this house for almost 10 years without a flag pole." but he headed to the garage, found the drill, found we had no drill bits and promised to have it up the next day.
Yesterday I arrived home to see the holder posted on the column; I flew to the garage and dug out all our flags. Chris watched as I started sorting them and while he did mutter, they're all very childish and some are beyond faded, he too was enjoying this walk down memory lane. I searched for the perfect flag to be our "first" one up. (Chris drew the line at it being the UVA one.) I wanted a Valentine's one but we didn't have one (don't worry it's already ordered). Then I remembered the gift Caroline received last spring when she committed to Randolph. It made perfect sense. It all came together.
The Babies are at Randolph; they're settled; they're happy even knowing it won't be there home forever or maybe Lynchburg will be. They have found their place for now and for however long that will be, and I have too.
Build houses, put up a flag pole and settle down.
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