Homeless

There is more than one way to be homeless. 

It's not always the typical image that comes to your mind when you think about the person sitting on the street corner, his or her home a cardboard box next to the Dumpster down the street, hopefully out of the biting wind.

There are different kinds of homelessness.

There is the kind that leaves you standing empty and alone in the middle of a crowd.

There is the kind that fully surrounds you even though a roof is over your head, food on a plate in front of you and people that care about you.

I've come face to face with a different sense of homelessness this week and I've had to rely more strongly on my God to pull me through.

I have a great place to live. Don't get me wrong. I have people who care greatly about whether or not I arrive home after work or my late night Bible Study (I've turned into such the partier since moving out here. Read: not). I have people who have generously opened up their home and their lives and invited me in.

So why am I writing a post about being homeless?

Because I am. But in a completely different sense of the word. 

Living in the in-between is hard. Harder than I expected. Harder than I planned. It's difficult to surrender and allow yourself to submit to a different season of life. And this season is definitely very different. I'm not fully independent...and yet I am. I'm not truly living on my own...and yet I am. 

Surrender takes on a whole new meaning when you are living in the in-between. It's a different kind of consideration for those around you. It's different to know what you have around you, truly isn't yours...and yet it is.

The other day I talked to my sister who has moved into my cute little bunkhouse. My

My bunkhouse. :-)

home on my parent's property. This was my space. My room. Was. Was. Was. And it's hard to give that up. To hand that over. Because having it there, I always knew in the back of my mind, if I had to, I could always go home.

And I still can. My parents would welcome me back with open arms. But I'm moving on. And that's hard. And while I have a very safe, warm and loving place to live now, it's not mine. Not yet. I can't paint the walls. I can't change the setting. I can hang things on the walls, but it's just a room, in a house.

And I realized in the midst of this, that life is always going to be some level of in-between. Some level of homelessness. There is always going to be something that is going to be difficult and I'm not going to like. The question is: what am I going to do with that? 

Am I going to let God guide me, walking more closely in tandem with Him? Or am I going to continue to mourn what I don't have? The changes that I have to make to become more fully the woman that He is making me to be? 

It's my choice. I just have to decide to actually make it. And live it out. 

Are you in a state of homelessness?