Years ago, we made a decision to “write our address in pencil”… what we meant was to be flexible, to be available to move and follow whatever we felt like the Lord was directing us to do. At that point, we only had one baby, and it was easy to strap him on my back, metaphorically and sometimes literally speaking, and go.
Now, we are a family of 5 and soon to be 6, I hope, and it’s a little more complicated. Still, I’m okay with change. We packed up and moved to Kansas City, and while we’ve been here we’ve lived short-term in Nashville, and St. Louis, and Houston, as well as touring wherever, whenever the tours were family friendly. I have lost my allegiance to a city, although I will always be a Texan and therefore superior to all other life forms. I was made, in part, to pray for America and whatever part of America I need to live in, fine.
Anyways, right now I live in a house in Kansas City. It’s a big, goofy old house and it is not always aesthetically pleasant, due to its advanced age. No offense, seasoned citizens. You look great.
The thing is, we rent. It’s helpful to not have a 100k+ investment when you plan on moving across the country because somebody had a dream. What is not helpful is living in a house that belongs to someone else, because they might decide to sell it. So, here we are, firmly ensconced in this place, using every square inch. I’m not in love with this house, in fact, I am at war with it a lot of the time. The thing is, it is big and it has room for all of us and all of Radiant’s stuff and the studio and blah blah. It works.
But they’re selling it. Maybe it won’t sell. Maybe it will sell to an investor who will keep us as renters. The thing is, we don’t know. We won’t be homeless, we can find another place. It’s just the continual state of transition that is hard. I don’t want to do anything else, I’m just complaining, that’s all. I think I’m homesick for family. Somebody call the waa-mbulance.