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Another’s Home

I spent a good part of my day on Saturday looking at pictures from Seoul.  From ordinary libraries and bus stops to skylines with flora and fauna I felt like I was actually there.  My imagination helped me to feel the cool on my face, and to smell the flowers in the air.  In my heart, I found myself feeling alive and totally out of my element.  I loved it.

 

But, I really want that experience again.  Part of the early joy of the possible move to Birmingham is the feeling of walking in a city with which I’m not completely familiar.

Perhaps that is self-serving, but that feeling is amazing.  If you’re never had it before, it’s ultimately freeing.  The challenge of being in a new place, in a new land, is something for which my heart and its wanderlust longs.   

I know that part of it is probably the fact that this place in which I live feels and has felt foreign to me.  I also recognise that where I live now is not remotely where I have ever wanted to be.  That’s way to myopic for this to be a truth for all to reconcile.  However, there is something amazing about walking down a street that doesn’t belong to you, yet.

The criteria for which people use to call a place home is wide and varied.  Sometimes it involves family.  Other times it’s a comfort level.  Most often it is just where we are at any given moment.  However, usually the place that we call “home” has memories that give it more meaning than just the place we live.  When I’ve traveled to a place I’ve never been, I often have moments where I can absorb what I see.  Sometimes, you can see nuances of where God seems to be reaching out to His creation, just by watching.  It’s invigorating to see new cities and the way they speak to me.  As for now, I’m still here where I live now.

But, here are a few pictures of a friend’s home.  Hopefully, God willing, I might get a chance to visit.

Someday.

Home

Amidst boxes and the whole of my life in small compartments, I am in my new home.  I’ve actually been there for a few weeks now.  And except for my washer and dryer… (they get to come over this week) I’m in my home permanently.  Or at least as long as I have a lease and breath… not necessarily in that order.   I’m used to moving, except until recently.  All my life, we as a family, or me, as me have moved.  Not all the time to a new city, but within the bounds of the city we were already in…  except that for the last 7 years I have lived in one place.  It’s weird to have different noises to sleep to.  Different smells and sights to get used to.  A chance to look at myself and figure out which things to get rid of, and which things to keep.  I haven’t had to do that in so long, that this time it’s a little easier to throw things out… and harder to keep things.  The total opposite of how things went before.  Before, we’d move so much, that the modus operandi was to keep everything, because of losing touch with the person/people/place that we were before.  Now, it’s more of the idea that…. I’ve been here so so long, it’s time to start again anew.  I already miss my green chair, and I miss my tree limbs outside my bedroom window.  But, I have a canal to sleep to and an extra bedroom to make into whatever I wish.  It’s a chance for change.  A writing room, office, a place to get in tune with the voices that I ignore so often because I’m so busy.  Things are now more akin to slower time… a reference you might get, but it’s not Shawshank around here.  I’m now a little freer, and hopefully in the weeks to come as I unpack my life… a little wiser.  It’s amazing what things you’ll think about when you cannot watch this week’s new tv shows.  Or type email to a friend.  Or whatever.  Especially when your goal for the evening is to unpack this box and put it all where it’s supposed to go… and pick a place where it’s supposed to go isn’t an easy choice either.  But it makes for great fodder in my head.  I’ll share some things as I go.  Remind me to do so in a few weeks if I haven’t done so.  But, I must attend to the world of work.

 

grace everyone

 

C

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