1 Year, 2 People, 3 Moves, 4 States

Yes, it’s the 1^st of September… a new season.

Back to school and NFL kick-off, television shows reboot and sultry temperatures ease as we head toward Autumn.

And for the Lundquists, ‘tis the season for moving to a new state.

That’s a joke.

Sort of.

Of our eleven moves in fifteen years, (you read right, 11 moves in 15 years), several of them have occurred in or around the same months, either spring or fall, around March or around September.

So, as we prepare to leave Austin for Billings next week, I’ll pack boxes, my Daniel will alert utility providers and other institutions to which our money monthly goes, and we’ll both field questions from inquiring acquaintances, all of them declaring pretty much the same thing: You guys are moving again??

Yep, we are.

Nope, we’re not crazy.

Just doing what we’ve got to do.

It hasn’t always been our choice, and it hasn’t always been under the best of circumstances, but God’s led and guided and protected and blessed.

This time, I’m excited. The air of anticipation fills my lungs.

Our lives may not seem “normal” as far as your world goes, but I’ve garnered invaluable benefits and witnessed God’s purposes through our nomadic life. I’m even at a place where I can say that I’m thankful for it.

Of course, it’s not easy making new friends only to leave them behind, or adjusting to new cultures and ways of life. I have stood in way more DMV lines than any human should, it’s true.

But I’d be a different, lesser person had I not met those people I’ve had to leave behind. I wouldn’t have had a chance to open my eyes to variety and perspective and possibilities had I never experienced those cultures. And as far as the DMV goes, at least I get more do-overs on that dreaded driver’s license picture than the average person.

Experiences like mine run a colorful spectrum of the good, the bad, the ugly, and the abundantly blessed.

That may sound crazy to some of you, maybe scary or overwhelming or stupid even.

I’ve thought those things myself at times, when I’m lonely or not getting the hang of a new city’s highways or missing an old routine. Part of me wishes for a white picket fence with my name on a cute little mailbox covered in morning glory vines.

I’m not ruling it out. God may just plant us in Big Sky country.

But if He doesn’t, or if we mess up or if stuff happens or whatever…?

Well, this is how I cope with the unknown…

Ultimately, it doesn’t matter who we are or where we live or how many times we’ve moved or how long we’ve lived on the same street – if you’re a child of God through faith in Jesus Christ, your citizenship lies elsewhere anyway. Home equals Heaven, nothing less.

There, I’ll have eternity to spend time with those friends I’ve had to part from here.

There, I’ll be knocking on the doors of those I never met face-to-face here.

There, I’ll have permanent citizenship, no need for a driver’s license.

There, I won’t be lonely, ever.

There, nothing will be missing.

There, I’ll never have to wonder again if I’m home.

Knowing the certainty of “there” makes the uncertainty of “here” less something to be feared and more of an adventure to be explored.

Happy Wednesday, Dry Ground friends! Thanks for sharing part of your day with me!

(photos by photobucket.com)