Far from the Home I Love

That song from "Fiddler on the Roof," when Tevye and his daughter part ways at the cold train station, is always the most heart-breaking moment for me. It's a beautiful song: a simple, lyrical melody with simple, clear words.
I took this photo last night as the setting sun was just letting go of the tree tops in our back yard. They are golden. I love living in the North Carolina woods.

Some of you may be wondering what's happening with our job situation. Adam is still working at our church, but the presbytery committee did not decide yet about whether they will allow him to candidate for the position permanently. We don't know when they will decide. What he is making at the church is just barely enough for our basic expenses, and we are dipping into our savings for things like dental work and field trips. Adam knows that, much as he would be willing to wait for many months to find out whether the committee will vote in his favor, our time is running out. And after our resources are depleted, the committee might decide against him, and we would really be in a bind, with no work at all.

All that to say, Adam has been contacted again by a small church in South Dakota, about being their pastor.

South Dakota.

Now, for those of you who live out west, or far away, this might not sound strange, but to this southern girl, South Dakota is far, far away. Far away from the home I love. Far away from my dear parents who only live about 2 1/2 hours from me now. Far away from the wooded Appalachians, from the blueberry farm, from dear friends, and from my boy at college. It makes my heart hurt to think of going so far away.

We have moved a lot. I've lived in Iowa and Massachusetts. I've roamed around in the Southeast from Mississippi to North Carolina and in between. We long to settle somewhere, but honestly -- one hopes to settle in a place that feels like home. Home has hills and forests and pine trees and balmy fall days and wishes of snow.

But I do believe that God has an opinion, a preference, in where we are. He has work that he has chosen for us to do, and no one else. That's why he's moved us around as he has, and it must be why he is (possibly) moving us again. It's not a Done Deal yet; Adam will need to be examined, and to go there and preach, and the church would need to accept him. But it dizzies my head to think how soon I might find myself setting up house in a flat, frozen landscape. Or as one friend described this area: Cold and Desolate.

I used to leap into adventures; I longed to travel -- anywhere, everywhere -- just to GO. But I'm not that way anymore. Now I long to stay. So, if you pray for me, please pray that God will soften my heart and make me willing, even eager, to move where and when he says "Move!"