and I will drink, if longingly

Here I sit, in the quiet night of my home in pieces all over the place.

It's a tumble me round, pieces everywhere season for me- that's the truth. Don't get me wrong. I love it here.

I love our new ancient home and how it felt like home as soon as I stepped in the door that first day. The beauty of the river every morning hasn't escaped me yet, nor the concept that that beauty so abundantly fills a hole that the mountains left. Only this time, the river, it's a 2 minute walk from here. Our new school has been all that I'd hoped for and arms around me as a new friend, arms around us all. My life is full, my hands are full, my belly is full and my heart is....

My heart. It's, um, what's the right word? It's missing something. Not lacking something. Missing, in the sense of longing.

And I know that while I spin through my days of teaching, and putting old things in new places. Of planning and errands and laughing. I know it's there and sometimes I feel I'll break and sometimes I do.

What to do with a longing heart?

There is a familiarity to this longing. It's not about people. It's mostly about God, and about myself too.

Breaking into a new life is hard. Moving sucks. I do not like hanging my old things on new walls again. I would rather be walking by the river with my wiggle boys, finding the best stick and wondering about the feathery nuts of the Sycamore trees. I do not like wondering where to put these things. I want to pull up a fat book and pile on a blanket, sit in the Autumn sun to waste the afternoon away. But even more so I want to be settled. I want my home to be tucked in so I can go and play.

I work hard to do both. Work here, play here, then rest. This morning I finally answered the call of the sunrise. I ran downstairs in a hurry to scoop up the boys to go, go, hurry before the sun rises. We found our way to our own little patch of the river front and I photographed the little wonderful things and the big astonishing things. I listened to the boys discover and giggle and step through the sticks and leaves to find the perfect stick. I came home and made a fat fire in our stove, somehow sitting there puffing life into that stove calms me. I needed calm. You see I've been hard at work all week. I've really not been resting or playing.

But the longing stayed.

I wonder at what to do with this unresolve. I read some ponderings from a sweet friend this morning, who has gone through all this change and so much more in the last year. At last her heart is settled, full and the questions seem to have answers, if only for now.

And her advice (you'll have to read more to really understand) is simply to drink. Drink from the cup we've been handed.

From this i hear that I should fully embrace the cup I've been handed. The beauty of our new home and the lovely mornings. Embrace the work that is ahead in my day, the family I've been given, the unsettled parts of my life.

A man plans this path but the Lord directs His steps. I will sink fully into those steps, I will look around and see the others that walk along me. I will drink, working and loving and resting and playing. And I will long.