this summer marks seven lived at camp, and in so many ways, camp is home. i grew up coming here, as my mother and grandmother did before me. i met my husband on these hills. i fell in love with Jesus here, too, in the arms of this Kingdom-minded community.
campfires and wildflowers and rain will always smell like home, but camp only lasts the summer. despite years of living here year-round, this town still feels foreign.
or rather, i do. deep roots are so very hard to grow.
no matter how hard i search and long, i know deep down that my heart is made for a journey to Somewhere Else.
until then, home isn't so much a place as it is three people: one giggling boy-babe, a bright beauty, and my big-hearted love whose strong arms pull us all close.
and i remind my restless heart to seek rest in the One who breathed in life.
shared with five minute friday at the gypsy mama. prompt: home.
