The life of a nomad. Sigh.
It is currently 2 AM. The house is silent except for the clock ticking. My husband, sick with tonsilitis, retired several hours ago.
Our time in Odessa is up. The boxes are out. The U-haul awaits.
I have one whole day ahead of me to gather, find, clean, pack, and shut.
My brain spins madly--details, laundry, space. Where will it all go?
So now, I write this blog and try to train my tumbling thoughts into peaceful silence.
Amidst the brouhaha of lists, plans, cases and stuff I need to sit at His feet. Hear His voice. Rest my head on His knee.
And be reminded. Of why we do all this packing and moving around. (pause)
His compelling gift.
Our extreme gratitude for it. Our desire to tell someone else. Our longing, that is His, for all to accept it.
Can packing be that noble? :-)
But He is.
Our "worth it all" King.
Who now calls me to rest for awhile...