Family Friday #18 Bloom where you are planted

I am “home” but I don’t feel home really. I am sure it has to do with the perpetual state of couch surfing without a space to call my own. I don’t have access to my stuff and no privacy really.

This is not a complaint – just an observation. And yet I continue to ask God to replace what I have left behind with continued humor and grace.  I am grateful for the journey.

I remember my homes. When we were first married we lived in a quonset hut in Bellflower. It felt a lot like Gomer Pyle.  I did not have any personal belonging there and we lived out of a suitcase for a few months. I learned to by married and to be okay with the unfamiliar. I don’t think I met any of the neighbors but the owners of the place lived in a house who shared a backyard with the backyard of the quonset hut and they were friends from church.  We moved from there to the little house across the street from church behind the house that eventually became the one that the Degraffts rented. I learned many things there – especially from Connie and we grew our own boysenberries. We had a garden and fought the gophers with regularity. We grew veggies like corn and zucchini, brussel sprouts, lettuce and broccoli. We also grew in our relationship as a young married couple. We established habits and grew friendships that have lasted until this day..

When we moved to Scottsdale there was a lovely neighborhood and it was only walking distance to Rich and Kathy Howard. Waukegan,Illinois remains the brightest surprise of my adult life. Moving back to California, Fullerton specifically, also proved to be memorable.

I could say more but for now I am struck by the places I have lived. each one has a story to tell. I wonder if the people who live in those places now wonder about the echoes of our lives there. I am just back from Europe which was full of homes and places with long histories. I thought about those who lived there now and those who lived there long ago, some through horrific times. It game me a greater awareness of those whose lives are different from mine. I can imagine what life was like back in the day but I also was able to witness how different life is now for so many people. It does not change the reality that God put me where he did and wrote my story perfectly. I am reminded that He writes all of our stories and creates lives and relationships and places for each person. I am grateful for the opportunity to reflect on his goodness and to consider the unique “shoes” we each wear, the homes we inhabit and the lives that are given to us for us to grow and bloom and thrive.