The past decade plus a couple of years have been one adventure after another — here, there, and everywhere else, a lifetime of experience packed into my late twenties and thirties. Many years on roads in the mountains of Yunnan. Countless hours spent with Lydia, with roommates, learning to be a true friend and a sister. Coffee trees and alphabets. Jungle hikes and arctic flights. Raspberries in Wyoming, buses through Laos, a garden in Washington. Two completed book manuscripts and a third on the way. A lifetime of experience, one adventure after another.

I’ve written of love from time to time on the blog, but mostly I’ve kept my personal trials off the internet. Those who know me well, though, know that these last few years have been filled with both wonder and pain. There’s always been a longing in the roaming, a desire for the constancy and rootedness that have remained so long out of reach.

Now the grandest adventure of all begins, the one that has led me home to my own place of stability. Now begins the joy and delight of adventuring every day in relationship and in family. The years of rootlessness and wandering have taught me that this life of following Jesus is a pilgrim life — I am a stranger in a strange land, and my citizenship is in heaven. But I breathe the greatest sigh of relief to think those years of moving around are over. I am still a pilgrim on this earth, but now I will not walk alone. I don’t know how much I’ll write on this blog about this new adventure, though I can assure my four or five faithful readers that my writing adventures will continue on this website. For now I’m settling back into life in Texas and into this new season.