Well, we are all here. We know where "here" is, but it is not a "here" we are familiar with. Our home town address now reads "Little Elm, Texas." I know where it is on a map, about 20 North of downtown Dallas - straight up the Dallas Tollway and then jog West (that's toward California). Even though I know where "here" is, it is not yet home.

For the last few nights, I've laid awake looking at the ceiling and, for some odd reason thought of Coleridge's famous poem. In the Rime of the Ancient Mariner there is that great stanza, "Water, water every where and all the boards did shrink; Water, water every where nor any drop to drink." But, the line doesn't go through my head that way. Instead, it goes, "Boxes, boxes everywhere and not a place to sit; Boxes, Boxes everywhere and oh, floors hurt my hips." Our "here" is a blank-walled, box-filled maze. Home is suppose to be a place where you invite friends for dinner, a place where you come at the end of a long day to feel comfortable and secure. Home is like an old leather jacket that fits the contour's of your body. The shoulders sag in just the right places and you know without looking where the pockets are and how the zipper sticks right after you get it started. Home is a place - as the proverbial saying goes - where the heart is... Well, we left our hearts in Temple, Texas.

There is no doubt that eventually this "here" will become home. There is no doubt that over time, and after many boxes are unpacked, our rental house will fit us. Like an new jacket, homes need to be worn for a while to fit just right. I say all this because all five of us are missing our old home, our old friends, and our old church. Jennifer and I have to continue to remind ourselves, and the kids, that this move was the right thing.

Today is Sunday and tomorrow I head off to spend 10 days in the New Mexico desert. In some ways I'm looking forward to the time of solitude and lack of modern conveniences. In many other ways I'm terrified. I'm going to miss Jennifer and the kids something awful. This time away is going to be a time of introspection, a time to stand back and look in the mirror of my life, and I'm a bit scared of what I might glimpse. Jesus spent 40 days in the desert and from at least one gospel account it doesn't sound like a time of fun and games. Biblically speaking, the desert is a time of testing and refining. I hate tests and have never enjoyed being melted down to be reshaped. So, there is much about the next 10 days that make me wish I'd not been so agreeable about this aspect of my recovery and healing. I'll make you a deal though, I'll tell you about it when I get back...at least some of it.

I'm banking on the fact that when I get back from the smelting factor of New Mexico that "here" will feel a lot more like home than when I left.

One last note: to all those who are supporting us (both in prayer and financially) we want you to know how much you mean to us. Without you this transition would be physically, emotionally, and spiritually impossible. We owe you more than we can ever express with words. Please continue to hold us up before the Father in your petitions.

I'll talk to you in a few weeks. Peace, Jeff