Home Again, Home Again?

I know that there's been a lot of silence 'round these parts this year.  My hat goes off to those in the blogosphere with more than two children who blog on a regular basis.  Or do anything on a regular basis beyond breathing, eating, and occasionally sleeping.  Time whizzes by me like trees on the interstate.  Is Eva really almost 6 months old?  (And still she's never slept through the night?  But I digress...)

We are currently in the middle of another move.  If not for the extra child we have this year, I would feel like I am having major deja vu.  Didn't we just do this?  Weren't we just camped out at grandparents' house while our worldly possessions made the trek before us?  (And good Lord, whatever happened to that long winter that upset everyone so badly?  Has it ever not been hot and muggy?)

This time we are migrating much farther north to the DC metro area.  Though they claim to be southerners there, we who hail from Georgia know the truth.  Northern Virginia is a state all by itself.  I've moved enough by now to know some cold, hard moving facts and I am speaking the truth to myself about them in order to keep myself from the pit of despair that normally looms ever present on my horizon during these times.  Truth #1, I will hate our new home at first.  I've never not hated where I lived when I first moved there.  Even Beaufort, SC.  If you can hate Beaufort, you can nearly hate anywhere, especially if it has a lot of traffic and non-southerners.  And no Publix.  Truth #2, I will call my mother far too much.  Sorry mom.  Get ready to deal with some telephone sobbing.  Even more so since B doesn't get cell reception at his new place of employment and currently doesn't have a "work phone" either.  (Have I ever mentioned how much I love him being employed by the government?  I mean, I really do.  Except when I don't.)  Truth #3, although hater-Kels will resist it at first, something magical will start to happen in me after about six months in our new home.  It will creep up at first and surprise me, and then it will roll over me, wave upon wave of gratefulness.  I will begin to love where I live.  I've never not loved where I've lived in the end.  Even Macon.

People ask me all the time if I'm excited about the move.  Truthfully, I really have no idea.  My pat answer is, "I might as well be."  Ann Voskamp wrote two days ago about how we are pursued by the goodness of the Lord in everything.  "Even the discipline of the Lord can be a grace of the Lord and all the interruptions of a day can be the intercessions of Christ," she wrote.   This is my stronghold through this time of transition and often extreme loneliness.  This is all grace.  This is the hand of God in my life and while it's not what I would choose for myself, it's what's best for me.  

"So if I stand, let me stand on the promise that you'll pull me through,
And if I can't, let me fall on the grace that first brought me to you.
If I sing, let me sing for the joy that has borne in me these songs,
And if I weep let it be as a man who is longing for his home."
-Rich Mullins