When the Wind is Stronger than Your Roots

It was Day 4 or 5, mid afternoon, Samantha was just finishing a nap and I was preparing to put Annabelle down to start a nap when I got a call from Chris. He told me to get the girls ready. As soon as he arrived home, we were going to jump in the Jeep with him and check out a beach he stumbled across while away running errands. I LOVE IT when he does this. Usually he is counting on me to make fun plans for the family. I love it when he surprises me with a cool plan. Annabelle would survive a missed nap. Early bedtime or something.

THIS is the beach. Driftwood Beach. Have you heard of it? I never had. I forgot my camera in the excitement of jumping in the Jeep. We parked, walked down an enchanted, narrow path through the woods and stepping out into this scene, my jaw dropped. I was in awe. I'd never seen anything like this before. I asked Chris for the keys and I raced back to the campground to get my camera. My mind was already forming this blog post for you.

THIS is what happens when the wind and water are stronger than our roots.

It's beautiful in a way.

And this? Seriously? It looks like a giant sci-fi spider.

This next one... See it? A torn heart?

Here... I'll draw the top back in for you...

These giant, majestic trees...

There will ALWAYS be something more giant, more majestic.

Extra strong, this one. But his time will come.

I've been discussing the subject of roots and change on this blog for years. What an amazing visual to illustrate this topic. 

At 4 years old, my roots were deeply dependent on that green house on Cherokee Lane. (read: April 3rd Post for that story.) Yet 36 years of moving led me to write a post in 2014 about planting my roots in a different Source. (see post: October 2, 2014) Little did I know that 12 days later my husband would arrive home early from work to carefully deliver the news that my Dad had shot himself. Suicide is an event of high winds far stronger than any relocation from one house to another.

I am still on a journey of transplanting roots of my heart from the shakable to the unshakable. Just because I'm RVing, doesn't mean I have this root thing all figured out.

Lately I've been asking myself the following question: What does that ancient text mean when it says,

"Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys, and where thieves do not break in or steal; for where your treasure is, there your heart will be also."

How, exactly, do I store my treasure in heaven? When I kiss my daughter goodnight, is that action kept, for safekeeping, in heaven? I can't capture every precious, glittering moment on camera, and even if I could, moth and rust will eventually destroy it, even if I store photo albums carefully for 150 years of grandchildren. Are all these beautiful moments being saved in heaven somewhere for my later enjoyment? Am I storing up treasure in heaven when I wash dishes? Or give a homeless man a bag of groceries? Is it only certain actions that get put into heavenly storage or is it the Spirit in which we do it? Another text says,

"if I give all my possessions to feed the poor, and if I surrender my body to be burned, but do not have love, it profits me nothing."

Those are the questions I'm asking myself as I soak up each sparkling, temporary moment with my family this Spring and Summer. I take incredible, unspeakable joy from my small family and yet, God and I have had our moments alone. He and I know that He is enough for me. He knows He is the only One who fills my heart with the best and most Ultimate Joy which never disappoints. Yes. I have felt that sentiment. It is real. In my darkest moments and in my highest moments. Sometimes I loose touch with this Truth, but it's always there when I remember and reach for it again.

(Oh Jesus, please don't test me again on this commitment now that I've said this in front of all these people.) 

Fear or no fear, it needs to be said. He is my first Love. My heart longs to be with Him. It always has. From the very first moment I learned of Him. My passion only increases the older I get. Ever heard the words to that song on the radio?.... "everybody want to go to heaven, nobody wanna go now."

That's me. I'm longing to go... just not quite ready yet.

Always Moving - Always at Home - We are now RVing!

Have you ever heard the saying, "Not all those who wander are lost?"
As I write to you today, I am in an RV, traveling down the road with my husband, toddler and infant. This mobile moving vehicle is, for the next four months, our only home. And we planned it this way!

How did we get here.

Some people are meant to live in one house or one town for a lifetime. There are pleasures that can only be experienced by staying for decades, such as watching one tree start from a sapling and grow for 70 years. Nothing can replace the knowledge and expertise about the culture and rhythms of one location available only in the brain of someone who has lived there 50 years, except maybe someone who has lived there 100 years.

In 2016, in the United States, I do not often bump into someone who has lived in one location for 70 years or more. When I do meet these people, I am fascinated. Talking for only a few minutes, I find these are deeply interesting people.

Most of my friends, and most of the people I read or hear about, fall into a second category. They move a handful of times during their lifetime. Typically they have one or two childhood homes, another home (or dorm) in a college town, and three more homes throughout the remainder of their life. I have spent my first 37 years of life primarily hanging out with these type of people.

Then there is a third group of people; people I bump into as rarely as the first group; these folks move or travel constantly. I am not fascinated by those who live this lifestyle and hate it and feel trapped by it or do it because they are running from life's problems. I am fascinated by those who have intentionally embraced this lifestyle and are genuinely happy living it. This is the group of people who fascinate me more than anyone. Maybe it's because I want to be like them. Or maybe I feel a unique connection with them because my soul was born to be part of this group.

I started my life deeply upset by change. From age one to four I lived in a green house with my parents. My sister was born and a year later we moved to a bigger house across town, a pretty white house with black shutters. At first I thought the move was exciting, but within a few days I realized we were never going back to the green house and I went into a state of mourning. For weeks I visited Mom and Dad's upstairs bedroom to gaze out the window longingly at the roof of our old house, which I could see across town. I remember the pain of this distinctly. The confusion. The disillusionment. Mom claims I rocked back and forth, back and forth, back and forth in my child size rocker, searching for comfort. As time went on, I learned to love my new home. We stayed for 13 years. By the time we left that house, I felt ready to go. I was 17, reaching adulthood, ready for new adventure. But the girl in the rocking chair was not gone. I still had a deep desire to find a place my soul most connected with and put down roots and build a home for life. At 24, I sobbed my heart out when my husband's job moved us for the third time in 3 years. 

Today I can say we have moved 12 times in 15 years together. It wasn't until a year and a half ago I finally realized I was living the life of a gypsy and I actually like this life. (See September 2014 post) Instead of feeling trapped in this lifestyle or pushing hard to change it, my heart finally embraced it... or at least part of it. For me, when I'm constantly on the move, setting up and tearing down in big stationary houses is frustrating and feels like a waste of time. Thus, we are headed towards making our nomadic life more efficient.

We sold our house in Alabama a month ago. A few days later we bought a house in Virginia, where we will live for four years while Chris gets his PHD at Virginia Tech. While embracing the nomadic life, simultaneously we are making changes to build a healthier lifestyle for children, meaning less work related travel separating us and more travel together as a family. We bought an RV and are hitting the road for 4 months! Our dream is to eventually take a year off from work to travel the country. For now we are starting with four months. If we love it as much as we expect, we will hop in our mobile home every summer during school break and explore everything possible. The ironic reality is, by embracing the nomadic lifestyle, we have finally come "home." There is now more potential for a sense of permanent residence in this "home" which moves with us, intact, wherever we go. After years of moves, paring down a little more each time, we have finally pared down (almost) enough for full time RV life.  My dream is full time RVing, working on the road. For now it is part time. Somehow, by sheer luck and blessing, I happened to marry a guy who shares these dreams even though we never discussed it before marriage. Our attraction was pretty basic 21 year old priorities.

Chris and I have been living the life of nomads, for 15 years, without aiming to and without knowing what this type of life is all about and how to flourish in it. Career just kept sending us somewhere new. It's about time we learned how to make the best of who we are and what we've been given. 

Our intention is to learn over the next few years and beyond. For example, we've all been told humans need community to thrive. What does community look like when you frequently move and travel? What do you do when you love to plant a garden, but you're never home long enough to see the entire process through from planting to harvest? These are questions we will be exploring along the way, over the next few years. Please join me on this journey. Be part of my community. Please? I need you. Read, write, post comments, etc. Give advice if you have experience with this lifestyle.

I've always been perplexed by that phrase on mugs and bumper stickers, "Not all those who wander are lost." I think I understand now; I am a wanderer and I feel more sense of "belonging" in the last month, with this identity and in my new mobile home, than I ever have in my entire life.  

As a teenager, I confided to my Dad that I felt "lost." I couldn't explain why and he didn't question me or try to fix it. He seemed to understand what I meant even though he didn't have a solution for me.  

I no longer belong to any one city or state, but Dad... I'm no longer lost. 

A Life on the Move - Searching for Home

Weather is finally cooling here in Alabama.  Autumn is truly here, my favorite time of year! when I can open the windows and invite fresh air into my home.  It's exactly what I've waited for all summer, and tomorrow I'm leaving this gloriousness and moving to Florida for two months.  We are doing this for several reasons, work included.
A month ago, if you suggested I move to Florida for two months, I would have rejected it outright. My home is currently in Alabama.  For twenty years I have searched for a place to call home and now that I've finally found it, I don't want to leave.  Or so I thought.  

A few weeks ago, during a visit to Florida, I lay on my back at the end of yoga class and thought to myself, "wouldn't it be really great to move back and stay here for a few months?"  In that moment, I realized I still feel at home in Florida.  A few hours later I received a call and learned I would indeed be forced to move back to Florida for two months.  On my back, in a quiet moment on a wooden floor, perhaps it was the Spirit giving me an idea, preparing me for the coming news, letting me feel like it was my own idea.

A new way of life has been stirring in my heart.  For twenty years I have searched for a place to settle down and never leave, my heart yearning for a sense of belonging.  My heart still yearns.  Yet I'm making peace with the idea that some people are meant to live in one place for a lifetime and some people are meant to wander.  I thought I was the type to settle and now I'm learning that I'm meant to travel.  This explains why I felt at home in ALL the places I've lived: Vermont, Virginia, Colorado, Destin Florida, Orlando Florida, Switzerland and Alabama.  It also explains why I have always felt the urge to move on at some point.  

I always say that my true home is not of this world.  My home resides in the spiritual realm and I think I'm embracing this reality on a new level.  I was holding onto another person's ideal that did not belong in my own life and it was weighing me down.  I thought everyone needed roots to be healthy. But maybe my roots come from another Source.

Therefore, after a three month period of writer's block, as I sit down to write to you again, it seems fitting that the name of my blog has changed... again.  I am now writing to you from, Deep Scent of Jasmine: Life of a Homemaker Searching for Home.  This is the blog of a woman who will build a new nest many, many times throughout her life, continually seeking ways to change and grow.  She will always be at home and she will always be on her way Home.

As we speak, I am writing to you from my backyard patio.  This is my favorite place in the house.  It is where my almost two year old and I eat breakfast every morning, weather allowing.  She eats and plays while I drink my morning tea and slowly wake up.  I took the following photo of her this morning from this spot.  We will miss our big green lawn in Alabama, but we plan to return.  Perhaps Samantha was having a chat with Tigger about our upcoming move.  Perhaps she was preparing his heart for it.

Southern Appalachia Homemaker

Last time we talked, Samantha and I were spending the day outside.  We are outside again today, but in a very different location.  A few days after my last post, I learned that Chris' company was asking us to move to Birmingham, Alabama.  Four weeks later, we are here, fully re-located in temporary housing while we house hunt.  A shock?  Maybe.  But I've come to expect sudden change.  Life can change in the blink of an eye, all of our plans re-arranged.  It's a lot more enjoyable to ride the wave than to fight it when it happens.

"The mind of a man plans his way, but the Lord directs his steps."  Proverbs 16:9

We still intend to buy a house, as planned, but instead of on a lake a mile down the road, we are now looking for a house in the southern Appalachian mountains of northern Alabama.  Without fail, God's re-directions are far more delightful than our plans, for those who have eyes to see.  I've always wanted to live in the Appalachian Mountains, but didn't think it was possible with Chris' job.  I was born in South Western Virginia, right in the middle of the Appalachian chain.  When I think about returning, I think of Virginia or North Carolina.  I've never been to Alabama until now and had no idea that the Appalachian chain extended this far south.  What an amazing surprise!  After only a few days, I already feel more at home here than any other place I've lived since getting married and following my husband on the job trail.  Colorado, Florida, Switzerland, they were all wonderful adventures, but this?  This feels like home.  This is where I belong.  At least for now.  Only God could coordinate my husband's job and my ideal location to be in the same place.

As I write to you now, we're on the back patio and my baby sleeps in a pink stroller next to me and I look out over my laptop at the small woods behind our apartment that rest on a hill and separate our apartment buildings from another set of apartment buildings.  A breeze grazes us and I breathe fresh mountain air, daydreaming about what the rest of our new life in Alabama will bring.