Nomads

There’s something special about the word “home.” You know that feeling you get when you’re travelling, and you’ve had a blast, but you’ve been gone long enough that you just want to be done invading other people’s homes and spaces? To be in a place where you have your own routines, your own habits? Where you can just throw on some sweats and sit in front of a TV and eat a pint of ice cream? Or decide you can’t handle life for a day, so you leave a huge mess in your house because you can clean it up in the morning?

Have you ever felt like not making dinner, and then served cold cereal to your kids at 8 pm (30 minutes past their bedtime)? Or started a major project and left out tools to finish it the next day (or even the next week)? Have you left laundry in the washer for so long that you have to rewash it? If you can do those things without feeling like you’ve failed anyone in your life, congratulations! You have experienced some of the freedoms and benefits of having your own space.

Sometimes, that feeling of “home” is harder to capture than others. For example, recently, we had a great time in Utah when some friends of ours produced a short film out there, and Ben, Jess, and I were cast in it. Since we were being paid to make the trip anyway, we thought we’d make it into a whole big vacation, so we loaded up the family and took off for three wonderful weeks.

We arrived in time for Father’s Day and were able to stay with my in-laws for a few days before beginning to work on the short film. Then, afterwards, we stayed until just after Independence Day, basically travelling the whole state visiting family and friends. It was just the escape that we all have been needing. We even had our 10-year wedding anniversary celebration!

But as wonderful as it was to see everyone and do everything, after a while, I just wanted to be home. Interesting enough, though, coming home from vacation didn’t really feel like coming home… at least not for me. It just feels like another extremely long extended stay in someone else’s home.

I’m not trying to be crazy negative. I just struggle sometimes with being “on the job” 24/7. When I’m in someone else’s home, not only do I have the demands of being a wife and mother, I also have to factor in the demands of living with other people: respecting their preferences, their rules, their space, their stuff. The demands of being a responsible and loving daughter. The demands of trying to be a constant example. And the feeling that everything I do, good or bad, is being viewed by (and judged by) someone else.

Don’t get me wrong… it’s not really about the people that I live with. We’re so blessed to be able to live with my parents. It’s simply the fact that we’re living with other people, period.

It’s sharing a kitchen, a living space, a radio, a dining room table. It’s sharing a thin wall with, honestly anyone. It’s making sure that the places that aren’t child-proofed are respected. It’s finding a private place to have a disagreement. It’s merging schedules. It’s having to clear pretty much everything with someone else who has different priorities, different ideas. It’s respecting someone else’s family and house rules.

And it’s not even just those you live with, it’s being in such close proximity to other people in the neighborhood. It’s having someone take a shower with the hose in your front yard. It’s hearing neighbors yell profanity in the streets. It’s worrying about the safety of your kids if they walk outside without a grownup.

…yes. I know. There is a time and a season. This is just a phase- just a period of life that will eventually pass. And yet, when in the midst of it, there are days when I feel… homeless. Hopeless. There are days when I feel like I’m never getting out of here. There are times when I find myself so exhausted and frustrated that I can’t function. 

I know that there’s plenty of amazing advice out there for me to hear… and believe me, I’ve heard most of it. And I am working on it. I’m trying hard to find things that I can control. I am trying to focus on good and wholesome things that I can do. I am trying to set up routines that work for everyone in the house. I try to set boundaries for my own family. I’ve learned to be careful when asking for advice. And I’m learning to let go of things that I have no control over.

It’s all a learning process. Someday, I’ll look back on this time, and smile. At this point, though… I mostly just try not to cry.

Why would I do this to myself?! I mean, this is hard! I feel like I have given up so much of my independence. So much of my life is dictated by everyone else!

I have to remind myself pretty constantly why I live the way I do. Because I feel like we’ve been guided and led by a God who loves us. I don’t know much… but I have no doubt that my Father in Heaven, the God of all the universe, knows me and loves me. He knows when I curl up in the middle of the day for a nap because I can no longer function. He knows when I cry in my pillow. He knows when disappointments seem to crush me. He knows when I’m scared and angry and nervous.

Sometimes, life is hard. But making sacrifices now, with the hope of something greater for the future, is not failure. Many of the most successful people in the world only succeeded when they were at their lowest. They were living in basements. They declared bankruptcy several times over. They were kicked out of school. They were on their last dollar.

The stories are numerous. And yet, they refused to give up. They refused to accept failure. They were persistent.

So here we are. I’m not perfect, but I’m not broken. I’m not finished. We’re just in the middle of this tough, but incredible, journey. I’ll continue to have the courage to sacrifice. And I’ll work harder at enjoying life along the way.