Sometimes I wonder how in the world we ended up with two houses. Especially at this time of year. We still mostly live at the city house. It’s where work is. It’s where the mortgage is. It’s where old friends are. But it isn’t necessarily where the heart is. I wonder about that. I miss seeing friends. We just resigned from our church — our life for eight years — because we are never there on weekends, and it is a loss.. And neighbors — I’m never in the yard working on my flowers or garden, so I don’t see them anymore.

The city house is really much more beautiful. It’s a stone Tudor with character, a cottage with a wildish flower garden out front. It was the house of my dreams when we bought it eight years ago. I still love it. But, my heart isn’t there anymore.

I am fractured sometimes.
Split down the middle.
Anxious to go.
Hesitant to make the move.

No Christmas tree this year. Where would we put it? The house where we are? Or the house where we aren’t?

So I have pine at both houses…

Christmas in the country

Thankful for these blessings, I try to be mindful of them and not see any of it as burdensome. Yet the details are exhausting sometimes. We are always on the move, not here, not there. And we always forget something. Or two somethings…

Christmas in the city

I am reminded by Matthew that where my treasure is, there my heart will be. (Mt. 6:9 — I went to check the citation and discovered it quickly; it was underlined in red pen.) I mustn’t fret, but wait on God’s timing. This country house was such a gift and the circumstances of it make me, make us, sure that God is doing a new thing here in my life, in our lives. We just aren’t clear what it is yet. And I’m not getting any younger, God…

I know, I know. Patience. Preparation. Waiting. ‘Tis the season.