Note: I write like I think. With lots of commas and “ands” and thoughts that are combined and similar but not grammatically correct or anything. I’m ok with it. If you don’t like reading it, that’s ok. I like writing it. My journal-y, list-y, not cohesive blog. This may change on some blog posts. It mostly won’t. I hope that’s ok with you.
We’re here, settling in, but not quite as nicely as imagined.
Regardless, I have nothing but good things to say in this moment. Greeted by our sweet nieces and nephew, baskets of fruit and chocolate, homemade lasagna and wine (not homemade, but that’d would be cool), new friends, and TWO Christmas trees- I could not have imagined a better opening ceremonies. I love this place called home.
The cold and rain is dreary, in a great way. The last day of Texas and our first days of Carolina have been the windy, cold, wet, sad kind, but that somehow lends itself perfectly to the warm socks, oversized sweaters, coffee drinks, and Christmas songs that I’ve been longing for. Perfect for cuddling up with my thoughts and emotions of all of this.
We are at Drip right now. It’s a coffee shop in Colatown, really good. Like good good good, french press, real macchiato, cute coffee cups kind of place. A long way away from the 2 coffee places in Texas, and that’s also a good thing. If you are in Texas and you are reading this right now, don’t you want to move here?
How weird that Texas became our home, Columbia is our home, Pennsylvania is our home, too. 3 homes?
1. Texas with it’s quiet nights, wonderfully open sky and perfect clouds, music capital of the world, carnitas, sweeter friends than anywhere. And that Big Dipper that sat right outside our front door.
2. Columbia and it’s dear little nooks, swing dancing, easy hospitality, southern fashion, late nights on back porches, two-way streets and no toll roads.
3. Newtown’s snow, old stone intelligence, Narnia woods, big cities by train, boots and earmuffs, northern hilarity and italian food. I like them all. I want them all, at the same time.
You can pray for the Bedenbaughs. God has us in his hands, no worries or doubt. But we are struggling with hopeful expectations. HE has us here, now. No job, no house, nothing concrete except His faithfulness to us. We’re little nomads. Little nomads waiting for our home. Waiting for babies. Waiting for our ministry. Waiting for our home business. Little nomads choosing joy. Growing, loving, hopeful, sad little nomads.