Pilgrimage

It is the best word to describe the past three years, where the next move - from house to house, city to city, continent to continent, daily job to daily job, has always been on the calendar.  At present we are staying in one city, waiting for a months-long political strike to end in another city (where our house is), so that we can return to pack up and move to a third city... in another country.  Meanwhile, we are preparing for two months in early spring and 3-5 months over the summer in two different countries from the one where we are moving.  A lot of things get lost in all the transition, and sometimes it is the song in my heart.  But I have to keep looking until I find it again - it is all I can carry.

For several years now, as we've parted again and again with beloved community, favourite places, comforting rhythms, familiar bedding, special bikes, kitchen conveniences and home decor, I've been hearing the beginning of a poem in my head:

We are the wanderers,
we have no precious things.
We carry only road-songs,
our home is where we sing.

Over the summer, I read Psalm 119:54 and it settled in my heart - a song for these days:

Your statutes are my songs in the house of my pilgrimage.

All of us who treasure these words because of the work of Christ in us are pilgrims.  We have a home.  And we have songs.  Amen.