the big rocks

It's an over-used analogy but I thought of it the other night when Abbie and I were outside.  There is sooo much to do right now.  There has so much to do for a very long time now.  All the changes to our life that are occurring are traceable back to that 'very much to do.'  We want less doing and more being. 

 

 

Genevieve sent me a link to a new book documenting the author's search home which led to multiple houses in multiple places over the course of many years.  I can relate to part of that.  The roof under which I type tonight is the 21st  to cover me in my 43 years. 

 

 

The author refers to this as rootlessness however and I take issue with that.  Tolkien tells us that not all who wander are lost.  I would assert, further, that not all who wander geographically are rootless.  

 

 

In this family we are very rooted - to our faith, to our family, to our love for God's creation which is vast indeed. 

 

 

We may not be rooted to place as an oak digs deeply into the soil, but we are connected to each other, much like the system of runners which tie the aspens together just below the surface.  We draw our life not from the ground below us but from these people whose lives are so entwined with our own. 

 

More than a specific place, home for us is a hand to hold, a shoulder to lean on, a brother to carry you when you are low. This is what counts.  This is what we are building.  These are the big rocks in our life -the people we share our lives with. Their big and little concerns come first.  We are are leaving this place because it is not important.  We are.  They are.  All the other things demanding our time and attention must sift down around them. There will be other places to be, and other things to do, but there will only be a strong 'us' if we tend to very intentionally.

 

 

So while there is a great deal to do, I am taking time for nights like this one spent watching determined little hands move  rocks from one spot to another, shadowing the bigger job her mom and dad are doing. While we all work, I am determined to be present in each moment, in this place, because we do not know when we walk this way again.  Perhaps that is the greatest gift that moving so often has given us, that of taking nothing for granted, in time or space.  

We do not know when we walk this way again. 

Comments

[Jen]

Absolutely lovely...the photos as well as the thoughts. Needed this!

[Marie]

Beautifully written !!! Beautiful photos, too. Such a precious little one.
Marie

[Paula]

Beautiful. I've got tears in my eyes. We moved a lot after my dad died. Thankfully we had our faith and family to keep us grounded.

[Barb]

We moved a lot when I was a kid. I cannot do it as an adult. I have this phobia about moving. I think we're all really different. I admire your willingness to just jump in and move forward. wow. Cannot do it. I've lived in this house for 13 years. The longest in my entire 47 years. I love the sureness of it all, while it is not a perfect place, it is home to me. Knowing all my neighbors and the small town folks, the familiar roads and sights....it is reassuring to me. I have a hard time just going on vacation! Good thing we're all so different!! I can't wait to hear of all your adventures in Germany.

[Sandy]

This is so beautiful. It is just these kinds of perspectives that we have to get right in our lives. Otherwise, we spend our whole life chasing the wrong thing. Just because our 'home' doesn't look like someone else's does't mean we have no home. Indeed, our lives may be filled with more love and meaning than someone's who has lived in the same town with the same people all their lives. We can't judge that sort of thing from the outside. I read a story once of a war refuge, a child who was asked by a reporter what it felt like for her family to not have a home. The girl quickly replied, "Oh, we have a home. We just don't have a house to put it in." Exactly.

[shelly]

where did the time go from infancy to this? nice post :)