Learning to Stay

I have always been a runner.

No, not exercise.  I hate that kind of running.  But I've never been one to put down roots.

Even growing up, my childhood was topsy-turvey and helter-skelter.  I never stayed in one place very long...or around the same people, really.  I do not know one single person from my childhood.  My oldest friend is one I made after I married Michael.

Over my entire childhood, I think I averaged a move about every 2 years.  It became every 3 years after my mother married my father who adopted me when I was 13.

When Michael and I married, we lived in a tiny house.  I fought moving because I really wanted to be "normal."  I wanted to be like those people who stay put.  We ended up moving during my pregnancy with Abby.  Three children in a 2-bedroom house was just too cramped.

So the next house I declared we would stay in forever.  Or at least until we found our dream location.

We ended up staying 10 years.  That seemed an eternity for me.

Several things nudged us into moving at that time.  I still really, really wanted to wait until we found "the" place, but it just wasn't to be.

The next 10 years were insane.  I forget how many moves we averaged.  Ugh.

But in a way, it was kind of normal.

At the sign of trouble, my first instinct has always been to pick up and go.

And if I'm honest, I'll admit that we have discussed running away several times over the last few years, amidst all the turmoil and heartache.  And I think we would have done it, but God closed every door.

I'm thankful that He did.

We finally feel ready and able to plant roots.

We feel home.

Things are definitely not perfect, but I believe we are where we belong.

I was counting up moves today.  I could only remember 10 during the course of our marriage but considering we stayed in one place for 10 years, that's pretty significant.  But the funny thing is, we have only belonged to 3 churches.  We have consistently attended for the entirety of our marriage, yet in all the moves we didn't move churches.

I don't know why that struck me as such a pertinent item of recognition, but it did.

Perhaps it is because we have been attending a different church for several months.

I like it.  I really do.

There are so many positives about it.

The theology is good.  The teaching is good.  I love the challenge and growth I see in my children.  Well, all of us, really.  They practice the Regulative Principle of Worship (major plus).  There is solidarity and consistency.  I appreciate the worship.  I really like the order of service.  All the little things that really don't matter...I like them.  Of course the big, must-haves are there.

You know what's missing?

William.

I know it is irrational and unfair, but I have such a hard time "plugging in" to a place where no one knew William.  I just don't feel like someone can really know us without knowing him.

Our church friends have always been our "family."  I have to wonder if we'll ever be able to achieve that again...