Home is Where We Are

We're "home," loosely speaking. We've already been back in the States for more than two weeks; still, it's a bit strange to be back on this side of the Atlantic in the land of cars and obesity and giant grocery stores.

Heather and I packed up our lives in Bratislava a few weeks early when we heard about David's brain tumor and caught an earlier flight back. We arrived in Omaha, met Heather's sister Angie and her two beautiful girls at the airport the next day, and road tripped out to Rochester, MN together to spend the week with David and Amy and (most of) the rest of the family. When David and Amy returned to their home to regroup before further treatment, the rest of us parted ways.

So, for the past week, we've been living with our friends Brittany and Andrew up in Chaska, MN. It's been a wonderfully relaxing (and even somewhat productive) time--talking, reading, watching movies, cooking, wrapping up work for TWR, riding bikes for the first time in forever, and learning to play Speed Scrabble.

What's next? We're not sure. And, let me tell you, that's a very unsettling thing to hear yourself say.

There are two questions Heather and I have been getting more than any other: 1) "So, where are you from?" and 2) "What are your plans?" The first question turns out to be much harder to answer than it should be: "Uh, Philadelphia. But we've been living in Slovakia for the last six months. Actually, Heather's from Omaha and I grew up outside Philadelphia. But we met in Ohio and both ended up back in the Philadelphia area which is where we started dating and everything. So we spent the first year of our marriage in West Chester, just outside Philly. But we don't live anywhere now." Concern and surprise usually lead to the second question, to which we respond with a reassuring "We don't know. We don't really have anything lined up." Jobs? Not really. Place to live? No. Are you busy this Thursday? No idea.

So, "home" is where we are. We're vagrants. Nomads. At present, the only place we have to call our own is a Honda Civic and a storage unit on the East Coast. Which pretty much makes us homeless...save for the hospitality of others. As Ingrid Michaelson sings, "we might not have any money, but we've got our love to pay the bills."

Believe it or not, we're fairly content. Don't get me wrong, we hope to find an apartment somewhere and unpack our bags at some point. And we hope to receive some clue or direction about what cause or causes we should dedicate the next phase of our life to. But we're confident that God will provide for us. In the meantime, there's no need to worry. There really isn't.

I have all I need.