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Not all who wander are lost. ~ JRR Tolkien
I haven’t written for several weeks because I’ve been wandering. We moved out of our home in Woodstock, VA, on May 8, thinking we would be able to move into our new place at a Life Plan Community in Williamsburg, VA, early in June. That date was pushed back to early July. We received word a week ago that August 25 will be our move-in date. We spent the first month at a 600-square-foot Airbnb in Hampton, VA. We spent the next two weeks in a different Airbnb, with 400 square feet. And finally, on June 22, we were able to move into a small cottage within the Williamsburg Landing Community for a temporary stay. We will have been on the move for 15 weeks – nearly 4 months.
It’s been challenging. Aside from a few suitcases of clothing and personal items, all our belongings are stored at the moving company’s facility. It’s also been wonderful. We’ve realized that it’s beneficial to live with less “stuff.” It is easier to choose what to wear each day. We’ve discovered coffee affogato, a delightful scoop of vanilla gelato drenched in two shots of espresso. We found hidden restaurants and walked daily in the lovely community of Buckroe Beach. While challenging, we realize how fortunate we are to have the resources and mobility to handle the moves.
We might be wandering, but we haven’t been lost. And one on the things that contributes to not feeling lost is our sense of home, not so much as a place, but as a space. Poet Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer wrote:
It surprises me
the nest of love is less a place and more
a spaciousness inside—not somewhere we go,
more something we are, so even when
we’re not together, the refuge is always within us,
a love that asks nothing and everything,
a home that grows as we both continue to grow.
I have..loved you..-
knowing there is nothing you could do
or be that could make me stop loving you.
The love you’ve given back to me has become my sanctuary,
a place I show up exactly as I am,
with bad breath, with tired arms, with a faulty memory
and dirt in my fingernails, and trust you will love me too.
I am reminded of one of the early memories our sons share about me. When they were young, I would get up early, go for a run, get home and make a cup of coffee before waking them up. They both remember my scent of sweat mixed with coffee breath. And they loved me.
And that sounds very much like God. ~ Anne
Wayfinding 