Fourty-some days ago, I hopped on an airplane once more–myself, my 19 month old, and my three year old–in an unexpected move across the country, to Virginia.

The plan was to move in February. To buy a house, to find stability, and while we waited, to stay for six months in Colorado with my parents while my husband adjusted to his civilian job.

But of course, it was not good for our family to be apart.

We thought that as a prior military family, we got this. Six months was manageable and would help us to reach goals financially and personally–being apart was nothing new.

God had other plans, and He made it clear very quickly perhaps in other stages of life, being apart is okay, but in this particular one, my husband needed his family and we needed him. So one day, three weeks after my husband’s own move, we decided it was time. I called my husband’s apartment and worked out a transfer. Plane tickets were booked. In less than two weeks, I had to prepare emotionally and practically to move.

Again.

Packing materials purchased. Boxes packed. Garage reorganized. Bedrooms cleaned. Traces of the two small children who had been wreaking havoc for six months on my parents brand new and gorgeous home, erased. Goodbyes said. Tears shed.

And then another plane trip to an area I hadn’t lived in for 13 years.

Back with my husband. Back as a family. Back to a place I didn’t think I’d ever return to, but if there was anywhere in the country I would have left Colorado for, it’s here, in the Washington DC area.

So for two weeks, all four of us stayed in my husband’s one bedroom apartment until our new unit became available. Our move date was pushed back three times and finally, after 14 days of living out of a suitcase, the day arrived!

My ninth move in six years.

To this two bedroom, third floor apartment in a building of 936 units, six miles from the Washington Monument.

Every part of this adventure has challenged me, but you had better believe that I can do anything. I can move by myself with two kids–I’ve done it three times–and I can teach my overly excited kids to share a bedroom and actually sleep. I can decorate the crummiest of kitchens to make it homey, and on moving day I can walk 8 miles within a single apartment building over the course of seven hours, pushing not only two kids in a stroller the entire way, but simultaneously carting suitcases and rugs and light fixtures, then wiping down walls, filling out paperwork, keeping kids happy and fed, and putting an apartment’s worth of goods in their place–in a single 7am-11:30pm day.

Did our apartment transfer sound simple? It was another entire move, down 19 floors, across two separate buildings, and then up another 3 floors.

“The joy of the Lord is my strength” has been my motto lately!

Finally, life has settled down, and I can breathe again; for nine months, we will be settled.

In August, we move again, and I pray this is the last time for a very long time.

Do I secretly love moving? I thought maybe I did, but after doing it twice in one month, I believe that has changed. There’s a large part of me, due to my missionary kid and military wife background, that craves change and I cannot imagine staying in any one place for more than a couple of years.

The longest I’ve ever lived in a place is seven years, but since I graduated from high school I haven’t been in a place for more than two years–most homes have only been mine for a handful of months.

Now we have children who beg for friends. I long desperately for a community of people who understand me, a cafe down the street where the owners know my order and play with my kids, a church where we stay long enough I can start the ministry I’ve had on my heart for so long, and a home where I don’t feel uncomfortable putting pictures up because I know I’ll be filling in those holes very soon.

Every house we’ve ever lived in has become a home, but now I crave my own home. Roots.

 

God has asked me to wait a little longer, so I will wait.

I remember when I worked at the healing and discipleship retreat in England, one of my coworkers shared a song with me. He called it hardcore, and I was quizzical–crooning vocals and acoustic guitars don’t usually bring hardcore to mind–but now I know that he was right. True faithfulness in the waiting is hardcore.

I’m waiting
I’m waiting on You, Lord
And I am hopeful
I’m waiting on You, Lord
Though it is painful
But patiently, I will wait

I will move ahead, bold and confident
Taking every step in obedience

While I’m waiting
I will serve You
While I’m waiting
I will worship
While I’m waiting
I will not faint
I’ll be running the race
Even while I wait

I’m waiting
I’m waiting on You, Lord
And I am peaceful
I’m waiting on You, Lord
Though it’s not easy
But faithfully, I will wait
Yes, I will wait

-While I’m Waiting, John Waller

So what started out as an update–we’ve moved again–had ended as a commitment.

I’ll be peaceful while I wait.

I’ll be hopeful. I’ll trust and worship and serve God, even while I wait.

I’m going to finish this race strong.

I’m going to take every step in obedience, even when I’m tired. Overwhelmed. Lonely.

Most of all, in this season of waiting that has seemed so, so very long, I will be faithful.

That, my friends, is living hardcore.

Nine moves in six years…whew! Will I even recognize roots when I start to grow them? Who knows. For now, my concern is to build a home that my kids will feel comfortable in, that my husband will anticipate coming home to, that I can sit down and breathe in at the end of the day, and we’re getting there. This place does feel like home.

 

Also, there’s a HomeGoods literally right across the street. Target next door. My favorite bagel place a stone’s throw away, and I’m back with my sexy man again. The waiting is hardly painful–hah!

I don’t know where we’ll be in nine months when our lease is up, and I’ve spent too much time trying to guess. Right now, we are here. Our family is together. I’ll be faithful in the waiting.

(But seriously–nine moves in six years? Yes, it was supposed to be seven as we weren’t planning to move until next year, but then we moved twice in a month. Are we insane?? Obviously, yes. Yes, we are.)

 

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