As the pavement glides like fresh-paved ice underneath me, I drive into yet another sunset, soaking up the rainbow sherbet rays, savoring this familiar moment—a moment I used to live in— the moment of transition between two homes.
For four years I existed here— here in the in-between. I had no permanent home, no official address, and no guarantee of residence for the next month. With all the highs and lows that this lifestyle offered, I can confidently say it was the experience of a lifetime, and I wouldn’t change it for the world. From profound seasons of loneliness, to overwhelming seasons of community, from crying on my knees thinking I would always carry this burden alone, to having tours filled with inspiring, encouraging, partners in crime, feeling like anything was possible, I saw the world in a new way I never would have dreamt. I got a view of humankind that changed me—a peek into the depths of myself, and a glance at what the universe looks like from the seat of other countries, states, and living rooms.
To the many whom I came across— It has been an honor and a privilege to be invited into your houses, your hearts, and your families. Thank you for allowing this missionary artist onto your couch.
Sure there is a great stage narrative to be told, and perhaps one day I’ll tell it, but as I drive into one of my final sunsets, one of my sacred transitional traditions as a single, homeless nomad, the off-stage story just feels far more significant. As I traveled from stages to streets, from prisons to schools, from churches to camps, from conferences to projects, and from one booking to the next, the story of the in-between is really where my miracle lies. It was here at these sunsets, on these freeways, in these airplanes, between these cities, where I really found Home. It was He who never left me. It was He who provided just enough money, even if only hours before that bill was due. It was He who provided not one father, but multiple fathers to fill the gap for this wandering daughter. It was He who provided my voice to thrive on-stage, when it was completely and utterly gone off-stage. It was He who protected me as I drove through the night for thousands of miles by myself. It was He who brought healing, and wholeness, and reconciliation to the darkest parts inside of me. It was He who brought friends. It was He who brought family. It was He whom I spoke to every night and every morning, no matter where in the world I went to sleep. He went before me. He was on that road with me. And no matter the season that’s coming up ahead, I know the Common Thread that lies underneath my every transition, my every ending, and my every beginning. He is my Familiar Moment.
Alas, these savory drives into the sunset will soon feel a little different. I’m marrying an incredible (and I mean, an incredible, incredible, incredible) man. We will have an address together. And life on the road will start to look a little differently. Aware of the beauty of this closing season, I took the past two weeks off in order to travel to various homes and loved ones, to reconnect and bid farewell to monuments of seasons past, to remember the landmarks of God’s faithfulness, and to soak in the joy of the Lord that feels so strongly tangible in the midst of these transitions. It was such an important trip—for me personally, for my many communities, and also for me & the Lord. Soon it won’t be just me and Him. Soon it will be me, Him, and my hunk of a husband, more of a trio at times than a strict duo act. So I will enjoy Him in this present. And I will enjoy Him all the more in the near & dear future. In every season. In any location. Certainly, I will continue to change. Even more surely, He never will. He is our Constant, our Foothold, our Solid Ground in this ever-revolving world.
He is the same Yesterday, Today, Always, and Forever.
In the transitions, in the staying still.
The Common Thread. The Familiar Moment.
Wherever I am…
Indeed, He is Home.