There is a day
when the road neither
comes nor goes, and the way
is not a way but a place
This poem from Wendell Berry (it is the final poem in "the timbered choir") has been bouncing around my mind for a couple of weeks. it speaks to something i am learning about home and place and the journey of life. i am a restless person insofar as i like the idea and experience of travel and dislike routine. after eight years of living in a foreign land many times i still feel very much like a backpacker passing through. i can happily move around with the excitement of the new offering greater joy than the sense of stability that comes from staying put.
Sherry and I have recently resolved to sink our roots deep here in Kentucky soil. We had occasionally imagined that we would be persuing a missionary call in some other land in coming years but instead we have been gently guided to make this the place to work out the future. we both came to this city on the way somewhere else but such are the trickster ways of the God that we have fallen in love with Lexington. we have also realised this is a grace-filled located and a strategic place to wrestle some vocational angels...all through the night if need be. so the way has become a place and belonging to a place (as wendell berry reminds us) is what it means to be a whole human. i am just beginning to learn this wisdom.