I sit sweltering at the kitchen table. The temperature has been reaching up to 106 degrees this week and our house has no ac. I lean my head against the wall and notice that from this vantage point the church in our tiny village is exactly centered between two of our porch columns. I vaguely wonder if it would make a good photo. My camera is all the way across the room though and it’s just too hot to move. I feel a bead of sweat slowly trace down my cheek. So I sit and think about the little village church. If you are native to Kathiana it is the church you would attend every Sunday and every holiday. How very different that is from my own church hopping experiences back home. I briefly ponder where we’ll make our church home if we find ourselves moving back to Arkansas. Neither is a given, the move or the church. It’s been a long time since we had a church to call our own and it would take consideration to choose the perfect one for our family. As sunset approaches I watch beautiful golden light bathe the whitewashed village church and I think about the people who worship there. Is it the perfect church for them? Probably not. But all the same they go. They join their family, friends, neighbors, enemies and even the guy who ran over their chicken week after week and they make it work because it’s their home.
As we wait to find out where we will be moving next – these reflections on “home” sit heavily upon my chest. I’m well versed in platitudes on the subject: “home is where the military sends you,” “home is where the heart is,” but platitudes bring me no peace in this period of transition. Nevertheless I move on day in and day out, making lunches, changing diapers and doing all the normal things that can sometimes feel even more a burden during times of limbo. But I’ve been surprised to find that this time the burden doesn’t seem too heavy and I’m mostly able to be at peace in it: in the small moments of every day life and in the assurance that all things work according to a higher plan. In the next couple of weeks we will be set upon a new path and I pray that we will walk it with equanimity, grace and above all, faith. Because while we may not have been born into a small close knit village with a default church, I know that there is a plan and a place for us; be it putting down roots this time or more short term stops along the way. And like that little church, centered and bathed in comforting golden light, I will carry on content in that knowledge.