During our bedouin stage of life, we visited several churches in Atlanta. We walked into the dimly lit sanctuary of one we had looked forward to going to and just as we stood in our places, the praise team began to play. In the middle of that first song, Micah leaned down to me and whispered, "It's like my soul just let out a sigh of relief." I'll never forget the look on his face in that moment. Even in the dim light I could see that sweet, half-grin that had been hiding for a while. He was content.
I'm typing to you from a new place; my haven for the time being. My Mayberry.
Instead of telling you details that will make you cringe, just know that we are safe. We are happy. Mayberry is exactly what you'd expect and "home" has taken on a new meaning... for the seventh (you read that correctly) time.
Truthfully, even in the piles of dirty laundry and multiple boxes still unpacked, I feel like my whole life just took a really long bath. Life is calm here. Kids still play outside, neighbors still wave good morning and Mrs. Barney Fife lives across the street.
Sometimes I wonder if there's ever going to be "the other side." I look at my life and wonder if I'll ever find Happy's hiding place.
Life isn't always pretty. Sometimes it's lined with diagnosis, money issues, rats nesting in t-shirts, moving in three days, and ear infections. Sometimes those things take precedence and that's okay.
God is still God. God is still good.
... And you will always, always find the other side.