It’s been six months since we quit our lease, put our stuff in storage and hit the road in search of “the Place”.
Six months of facing every single fear, known and unknown, from my fear Ben will relapse into addiction and depression, to my fear I’ll get sick again, or we will run out of money. Or, worse even than that, that we are completely insane and this is crazy, and there is no Place, not really, and there will be no end to this searching.
We know fear is a shocking liar.
We’ve had glimmers of hope, with no guarantees. We’ve had co-dreamers and co-creators come on board with us, conspiring in their hearts and spirits with us to find our way to the Place that waits now for us, somewhere.
I lay awake at night and think of it, out there, it’s gardens and rooftops bathed in the same moonlight as the one I’m laying under, it’s floors resting in darkness waiting for our feet to cross them, it’s table waiting for the many meals we will share with others to be placed on them, the land waiting to be blessed and healed, so we can bring the ones together who need blessing and healing and help them grow and recover from the world, and it’s endless bruising and brokenness.
And I close my eyes and hear the silence of the Place, feel it’s peace tingling my skin in chilled air and it’s restfulness unravelling my spine and stretching me out to my full length. I feel the stars wheeling overhead. I feel the Place, and me in it, part of it. It is part of me, and I believe it will know me when it sees me and come running to meet me, laughing and singing, “Here you are! I’ve been waiting! You’re home!”
And we will be home. And we’ll bring them in, the ones who are also looking for the Place, and we will give them ground for their feet and sky for their crowns, and we will sit them at the head of the table and serve them and make them our brothers and sisters. And we will all be broken and put back together again, in Him.
It doesn’t always sound like this in my head, you know. Mostly it’s the fear, the doubt and the worry. But half a year of that isn’t that long. Ben and I are just shy of a hundred years of journeying between us to get us this far. I have a feeling we are much closer than we think.
Love, Jo xxxby