Baby Bunnies


Who doesn't LOVE a baby bunny? Our garage is a typical TN-add-on-to-your-house garage that doesn't really touch the ground. Meaning our garage can some times resemble a zoo exhibit. Lately, we have had a little bunny that has taken up residence in the evenings. It is about the cutest thing ever. I promise we tried to get it and free it from our garage, but it was a little too sneaky for us. I'm sure it'll find it's way out just as it found it's way in.

Speaking of misplaced creatures, moving has totally lost all reality for me, but it's okay, it'll be real when it needs to be real.

I've had two people ask me something about Christmas in the last week, and my first thought was, "I hope I am not homeless or unemployed by December." Yup, that was it. And then I had to ask again what the original question was.

People used to ask me the hardest thing about being a missionary. Missing home? Using your second language? Not drinking from the tap? Being able to go anywhere by yourself as a woman?

Really, in all honesty, the hardest part is coming back. I sort of feel that way about moving, too. I am greatly looking forward to moving, but coming back is always the hardest thing.

And that's why I don't want to be homeless by December. Not because I don't think we'll have a place to live. We have a (for sale) house there, it's not like we are truly going to end up homeless. But I want to feel... at home. At home in a way I have only felt a couple of times since returning from missions, which by definition is a displacement. As contradictory as it seems, being "displaced" in a foreign country makes it easy to feel at home. You expect to feel like a foreigner making a home in a new place. It is such a satisfying life. It's that simple (that conclusion probably made sense to no one besides Lori). On long, beautiful summer runs here in TN, I pine for those mission fields as my iPOD pumps out the lyrics "But I still haven't found what I'm looking for..." because I haven't. Because we can't. Because this isn't and will never be our home. We are incomplete and broken and our only completion is in Christ.

And thank goodness He is our home and our refuge, because being homeless is scary. No matter how much moving to Indiana may, from all outward appearances, seem like moving home, I know better. I know it's going back. I know I will only find glimpses of what I'm looking for.

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