We moved last week.
For the tenth time in our 29 years of married life, our address has changed again.

My husband and I both grew up deep in the country, like 100 acres of country. We rode our bicycles on gravel roads, “went to town” to get groceries, and fell asleep on summer nights with our windows open listening to the soothing sound of croaking frogs. For us, it was a natural and joint decision in all of our moving to intentionally buy homes in the country for the raising of our kids…until the last home.

One of the passwords relating to this suburban home was “rental.mindset”, because the truth is neither of us ever intended on staying there very long. Before the purchase papers were signed, we were already thinking of this merely as a stopping over place. Our intent was that this would be a financial stepping stone for us to get back to the country. And chickens. And raspberries and apple trees. And space in our yard to throw a football that didn’t involve breaking a house window or car mirror. Which unfortunately did happen.
My husband has been ready since a week before moving in to move out.
I have wanted and needed some stability and a plan before leaping.

Two months ago, through an almost unbelievable series of events, we met a couple who were planning a six-month tour of the country in an RV with their kiddos. They wanted to rent their furnished home to someone while they were away on their adventure.

We briefly met these people and had a quick tour of their home. The next morning, in uncharacteristic spontaneity, we met with our realtor to put our house up for sale. Our home sold in a few days and after the RV couple met us only twice, they handed us a set of keys and their garage door opener and said they’d see us in six months.

I keep thinking that like Abraham, we have gone out, not knowing where we are going next. (Hebrews 11:8). Perhaps that is a pathetic stretch of a comparison as we are gratefully living in a lovely home 15 minutes from Walmart rather than a tent in the desert! Still, we moved here on our way to a place that God has yet to show us.

A sojourner is a person who resides temporarily in a place.
Moving so many times has made me keenly aware that I am a sojourner. Actually, we are all sojourners, and “this” isn’t our ultimate home.
We are only temporarily in this place.

I’ve already bought fresh flowers and lit candles because my soul craves beauty and because this is home for now. I’m working intentionally to cultivate a warm, comfortable, and inviting space for my family and guests alike because this is home for now. And I will seek to take warm cookies and meet my new neighbors because relationships matter and I may not know them long. Because this is only home for a little while.

Whether our passwords reflect it and our hearts embrace it, we should live and invest wherever we are, with a rental mindset.
Because the truth is, we are just passing through.