Claudine Phillips

I recently gathered around the IF:Table while on my trip home to Texas with close-to-my-heart friends. We found ourselves each in the middle of circumstances that we could not explain why in which we were positioned. As we each shared our hearts and woes of this season, I could not help but think of James 1:6.

But when you ask, you must believe and not doubt, because the one who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind.

The quivering of their voices stumbled as they portioned out their hearts to each of us to carry for just a bit. The dismay in their eyes left me heavy with their pain. We each wrestled with understanding this time of our lives.


Our stories are not uncommon, yet very personal. One of us did not get a position she was sure was hers, another has found herself in a new home and new school and mourns that she is not content, and another has simply lost hope of her dreams.

Me? I miss home. I miss owning where I live. Although I miss painting walls and decorating, what I trueIy miss is calling a place home. I know the cliche, “Home is where the heart is”, but it is the settled feeling of home that I miss.

As I visited Texas, I saw our beautiful former house tucked away between old pecan trees where we brought our first two babies home to live a full life. That house was always busting with people, laughter, and love. Shad and I grew as a couple, as parents, and as a family. It was our petri dish of life.

It’s been two years since we decided to make the jump to a new beginning. We drove past and visited old haunts. The kids played at “that park just one more time”-several times. Memories of past flooded in, yet new memories were made without us. The town has grown and time continued.

My mother-in-law is downsizing soon and it may be the last time we stay in that yummy home of hers. Always a meal, always a bed, and lots and lots of love. Time was moving on. The town was growing, Mimi is moving. What I called home, where I owned where I lived was changing.

As we were packing up to leave Texas and close up our visit, Greanly mentioned that she liked the way Mimi’s house smelled. Tug at my heart. I remember saying the same thing about my grandmother’s house. Our old house on Maple Street held the same memory of my grandmother’s house. Part of why we moved in.

Memories. Time well spent. Community. Home. Change.

Eventhough I miss calling a place home, I would not trade this season of life. It was necessary. A friend recently joked that my family has been on vacation for the past two years. In a way, I can see where she is coming from. We have lived in some amazing places, visited some incredible destinations, and experienced more than Shad and I ever have in our lifetime. It has been unforgettable.

Along the way we have learned alot.. We have grown up equally. We are at a place of surrender.


My friends and I concluded that if we look at our circumstances as my home, as validation of who we are, as hope, or as contentment, and doubted God in all of this, then we will be blown and tossed like a wave in the sea (James 1:6). But if we lean into the Lord and trust when our circumstances are not ideal, our hope is restored and is like an anchor in the unplanned in our life (Hebrews 6:19).

I am leaning in, seeking the Lord, and redefining what home is as we are in our transition of life. I am choosing to trust when not knowing when we will own where we live.

Home no longer is my address. It is in the Lord, where Shad is, with my kids, and in authentic relationships around the table.

…and I am good with that. Real good.

How are you doing? Is life a little bumpy right now? Can I pray with you as you anchor into the Lord?