Robert and I are somewhere in southeast Texas right now, a middle-of-nowhere sort of place equidistant from Austin, San Antonio, and Houston. It’s really beautiful here. Not the majestic-fall-foliage beauty of New England that we’ve grown so accustomed to, but the back-road, brushy, barbed-wire beauty that is still very familiar to us. We walked a trail through that wild landscape this morning – wide open acres of live oak, yaupon holly bushes, cedar, cactus, and cows.

It feels like home, one of the places that feels like home at least. We just left a beloved home in Massachusetts, and now we’ve come “back home” to Texas, but we’re without a home of our own, and I’m longing for one.

The journey from Massachusetts to Texas was such a gift from God in the midst of grief. It was difficult to stay at times, but it was especially heart-wrenching to leave. Typically, we’d book and Airbnb or hotel room, so as not to impose on anyone. Though I thoroughly enjoy hosting others in my home, I don’t enjoy asking others for the favor. I knew we needed to be with people, though, so I began reaching out to friends along the way.

Our first stop was North Carolina. We stayed in the cozy, third floor, corner condo of Bob and Cas, dear friends and mentors from our college days. Every morning they greeted us with hot coffee and a couple of hours of warm, authentic conversation. After going our separate ways during the day, they had refreshing drinks waiting for us on their rooftop patio every evening.

Cas introduced us to ginger beer, which is non-alcoholic and the perfect combination of sweet and spicy. Even more refreshing than the drinks was the continued conversation under the stars and the string lights. Having served with CRU and also in the local church for almost 40 years, Bob and Cas are ministry veterans. Their love for God’s Word and their devotion to his church and mission are matchless, and we are the least of those whose lives have been changed by their faithfulness. In them, God gave us the gift of fellowship, rejoicing together over all we’ve seen him do, and grieving together over the wounds he allowed. There was laughter, there were tears, there was worship, there was gluten free coffee cake, and there was prayer. Their home was a place of healing for us.

Our next stop was Nashville, home of The Country Music Hall of Fame and also our friends, Taylor and Mitchel, who had just bought their first home – an adorable little fixer-upper. Prior to our arrival, they kept warning us of the mess we would find at their place, since they were in the middle of renovations, but what we found was a guest room newly carpeted and lovingly prepared for us.

While they went to work one day, we toured Nashville on one of those hop-on, hop-off trollies. Later that evening we all went to The Listening Room together (thanks to a pro tip from our friend, JD) for dinner and live music by songwriters who’ve written songs that have been recorded by bigger names in country music. Afterward, Taylor and Mitchel treated us to Jenni’s Splendid Ice Cream and joyful conversation. It’s impossible to spend time with those two and not go from serious conversations about life and faith to hysterical laughter about the most ridiculous things, and it was just what we needed. The hospitality they offered in their first home despite it not being perfectly guest-ready and our history together in ministry and friendship lifted our spirits in the sweetest way.

Our last stop on the long trek to Texas was in Stillwater, Oklahoma. We stayed with our friends Todd and Deborah for a long weekend. If you participated in our MERCYhouse virtual women’s retreat last year, you might remember me talking about my friendship with Deborah – the woman I didn’t think needed any more friends and certainly not in me, because she seemed to have it all. Thankfully, Deborah had the courage and humility to admit she needed a friend back in 1995, and we’ve enjoyed that friendship ever since. She and Todd have been some of our biggest cheerleaders over the last two decades, checking in regularly, and hosting Robert for long Sunday lunches every year on his preaching and support-raising trip to Oklahoma.

Not only do both Todd and Deborah have the kindest, most nurturing spirits, Deborah has an eye for decor and the gift of creating the most beautiful, comfortable spaces. Her home, with its perfect combination of natural colors, pretty patterns, and comforting textures was a place of refreshment. Deborah is a pastor’s kid and remained in the church her dad pastored for decades after her dad moved on. She and Todd have served in almost every area of church life. The lingering conversations over coffee, the delicious meals, and our shared experiences in ministry provided us a haven.

A woman I don’t know posted this on Twitter a few weeks back:

“The more I study design the more I’m realizing minimalist decor is like giving up on beauty. And giving up on people.”

I immediately thought of Deborah’s home – not at all cluttered, but filled with elegant things in every space. Her home is evidence that she has not given up on beauty or people, and I was so personally encouraged by it. Inspired and ready to create a home of my own again as well.

But here I sit at a retreat center in southeast Texas. Knowing we had to be out of the Airbnb we’ve lived in for the last six weeks on October 31, I began searching for a place to go next. On a whim, I Googled “retreats for pastors in texas” and this place came up offering a three night retreat for pastors and wives beginning on October 31. No agenda, no programming, no obligations. Three meals a day and three nights in a resort-style setting in the country. I filled out the registration and got an immediate email confirmation. I thought it might be too good to be true, but it wasn’t. We just finished lunch with two older couples who spent a couple of hours getting to know us and whisking us away into a quiet room to pray for us. Their prayers were thoughtful and specific despite not knowing us well. We’ve desperately desired the wisdom, care, and stability of older saints. God provided it in a completely unexpected way in a very temporary home away from the literal home I’m longing for.

Our next “home” will be another Airbnb in central Austin. It’s in a quaint neighborhood that we’re familiar with from our college days, but it belongs to someone else. I can’t paint, arrange furniture, hang photos, host overnight guests, or even cook a meal with anything but the bare kitchen necessities. All of our belongings and the things I would use to create a home are in a storage facility in western Massachusetts. The lack of a home is causing me to realize how much I love homemaking, how much joy I found in hospitality, how much of my own calling was lived out in my home.

The Bible reading plan I’ve been following the last two years has taken me through the Psalms twice every year. Probably because I’m craving the things a home provides, the words “refuge” and “hiding place” are jumping off the page at me on an almost daily basis. Things like this:

Let me dwell in your tent forever! Let me take refuge under the shelter of your wings! Psalm 61:4

You are a hiding place for me; you preserve me from trouble; you surround me with shouts of deliverance. Psalm 32:7

Healing

Lifted spirits

Comfort

Nourishment

Beauty

People

Rest

Laughter

Tears

Prayer

Those must be the things that define “home” for me. So, while I’m longing for a place to create those things for others, I am also marveling at the way God has given us refuge in the homes of others, hiding places where his comfort and care have been so evident. In and of himself, God is a refuge and hiding place, a shelter from the storm, and a shield in the midst of attack. I can certainly rest in his loving care and find a true home, but what a kindness that he gives it so abundantly through those who love him and seek to emulate the refuge that he is.