Home

You know those songs that talk about home?  I'm not talking "Home, Home on the Range."  I'm talking more like "Who Says You Can't Go Home?"  Or what about how everyone loves the Wizard of Oz where she clicks her heels together and says, "There's no place like home"?  Yeah.  I love those songs and I adore all things Wizard of Oz, but I really don't know what home is, not in that sense anyway.
I grew up a preacher's daughter and the longest I ever lived anywhere was six years.  I can't even wrap my head around the thought of living in one place the whole time of growing up.  My husband did grow up in the same place his whole life until his parents moved once he was in college.  He can't imagine growing up the way I did.  But he's getting closer to understanding it after being married to me for seven years and staying somewhere only five so far.
Anyway, growing up the way I did, it's hard for me to think of anywhere really as home.  While it makes it easier to move sometimes, it also makes it harder.  There's this part of me that really, really wants to be able to put down roots somewhere and just stay a while.  The other part of me feels that God is just wanting me to remember that this is not my home.  Heaven is the real home for any Christian and earth is just a temporary dwelling place.
As we think more and more of moving towards the end of this summer as my husband continues to look almost EVERYWHERE for a teaching job, I am thinking more about all of this.  We bought this house three years ago with lots of plans for making it better and updating some things and haven't really had the money or time to do any of it.  We've loved this house, but at the same time, it won't break my heart to have to sell it and move somewhere else if it means my husband has a job where he can be happy again.  Because that's more important than my "home."