A Piece of Me

I have been reminded lately that I don't write here anymore. At least... Not very much.

Yesterday I took a few moments and went back to read a couple of old posts. I told J the other night that I need a "billboard" regarding some hard issues right now. I remembered that I had thought that very same thing in the past, and I wrote about it here. I searched and found the post. In the midst of doing that, I read through a few other old posts. As I read, I felt like pieces of me were finding their way back to me. I don't write much anymore, but not because that instinct in me has changed. I just haven't made the time to.

God has blessed me with the opportunity to teach a whole class of 5th and 6th graders this year. In addition to that, I am continuing to teach 7th and 8th grade Language Arts. I am enjoying what I'm doing, and finding the rewards almost every day. I won't lie though. It's been difficult to learn the art of balancing it all. Recently, I have felt like I found that balance. Until I read those posts yesterday.

Writing is important to me. It has been a big part of me since I was 13 years old. I still have every handwritten journal that I ever wrote in before I started to type here six years ago. Writing helps me focus my thoughts and process what's going on in my mind and heart. Without putting all of my thoughts into paragraphs, the thoughts stay inside my head and float around all messy like. They clutter me until they spill. Sometimes they don't spill in a way that I {or anyone else} find a positive way. I guess you could say that writing has been cheap therapy for a long time. That is why I must make my fingers familiar here again. The piece of me that wandered off found it's way back yesterday, and I feel the words coming to my fingers faster than I can possible type.

We are just a few short months away from buying our next home. The thought stays close to the front of my brain, but I am not obsessed with it the way that I thought I would be by this time. That surprises me, and yet it does not. We moved down the hill almost three years ago, and God has taken me places that I remember asking Him not to take me, but He did anyhow. Why? Well, as I read the story of Ruth and Naomi this morning to my class of 5/6th grade children, I was reminded of why. The Lord wanted to show me that I was capable of walking into my new home three years later not as a bitter person, but as a woman of great faith. He knows what this new home will be like. He knows where it will be, and He knows the day that I will open it's doors with my own key for the very first time. I know none of this. When I began this journey three years ago, I began it with faith, but if I'm going to be honest, I will tell you that a great deal of bitterness crept in along the way. There were days when I was screaming {wailing} inside because it hurt so much. The fear of the unknowns have at times crippled me. God is good though. He has always provided. He has always been faithful to show me the gifts along this road. He has grown me in areas that were needing Him to come in and do a complete renovation job!

This next gift of a home will be so sweet. I cannot wait to record here all of the thoughts and emotions that our family will experience as we take this next step. For today though, I am glad that God has brought me back to these pages. I am grateful for the growth that I have felt from the beginning of this journey until THIS day. I am overjoyed that God wiped my heart clean of bitterness and filled it instead with a sense of anticipation of what He will do next with my life.

My heart has always been one that longs for home, but over these past three years, my heart has found it's "Forever home" in Christ and Christ Alone.