I can’t do without my piles. With my husband’s influence, I’ve mended my pack-rat ways in most areas, but don’t ask me to part with my books.
Is it possible to find “home” when you move over and over again? What if “home” has nothing to do with our passport country?
Pilgrims learn to walk a life of paradox: even though their hearts are set on their final destination, they walk through each day alive to its possibilities, people and lessons.
We’re used to not living in the same city, but we’ve also gotten the hang of doing life together in a simple, natural rhythm when we are together.
This morning I asked God to begin weaving the threads of my family’s life into the fabric of others’ lives here in this city. I believe place matters to God. It is not inconsequential.
Utter luxury. Decadence. A sanctuary. Each time I stepped into it and shut the door, I almost couldn’t believe it was for me.