I've made it no secret that I have struggled with this move. Initially I was so pliable. "Thy kingdom come"...and I meant it. Then reality hit. Scott moved. I moved. There are white walls here and no backyard- this doesn't seem like a big deal, but it has really bothered me!!! No more pliable Kristi. Instead, my heels dug in, my back arched and I screamed, "Nooooooo!" Many tears have been shed, both in Yakima and Spokane and every city in between. I have ranted about "home" and what that means to me and how I don't want to leave and how, how, how....how can I make another home?

Our house has sold and we have to move everything out by the end of the month. (This is so surreal, even typing it.) We are looking for a place of semi-permanence and I am really looking forward to being surrounded by my own things soon. There has been chaos and stress and one dizzying thing after another. And in the midst of all this, my child sleeps. Total peace. She sleeps best when held in my arms, or the arms of my husband. We represent home to her. The rest doesn't matter. Here I am, longing for peace, praying for it and I honestly don't even know what I'm chasing after or complaining about when I see her. Today was an "aha" moment (thank you, Oprah for that terminology). Looking at these pictures I felt the deep, even breathing of God. His breath took mine away. And in that moment, as His heart beat with mine, I realized what home really is. It's being held in His arms, close to His chest and breathing. Surrendering to the pull of the quiet.

I want to dive down, deep into His mercy and rest there; I want to play, exuberantly and free as a child, in the shadow of His wings; I want to "act justly, love mercy and walk humbly with my God" (Micah 6:8). This does not mean I won't cry anymore, or hurt or question. It does mean surrender. And home. And a little something called trust.

"I will lie down and sleep in peace, for You alone, O Lord, make me dwell in safety." (Psalm 4:8)