"You are meant to be out here." 

That thought blooms in my mind as I watch you waddle underneath the bending tree limbs and stumble confidently out into the tangled grasses. My eyes take it all in and this weary mama of yours lets out a sigh. It escapes my chest, half filled with longing, half with contentment and tastes like apprehension and hope all at once.

Here--underneath a deepening, moon struck sky--is where we, all three, come alive. Here is where we collectively breathe a little easier. 

Can't it always be like this?

Here's the part where I confess that our Now is not exactly what we've envisioned for our little family. I suppose anyone at any point in their life could find something (or a lot of things) that they don't want, like or understand about where they find themselves. We realize that we mustn't give into the easy mindset of perpetual discontentment. No, the goal is to strive for joy and thankfulness toward God regardless our circumstances. 

But, this. This is different. 

We are thankful Jonathan's job. We do see how the difficulties it's brought our way has made us more dependent on Grace. We have found peace in the stress and long days and exhausting schedule. But, in our fight for joy, we've also watched this job of Jonathan gradually deplete our life reserves and we believe it's time for change. So, we're questioning things. We're in search mode. We're praying, praying, praying. 

Where will we end up, I wonder? What will our life look like in five years? In ten? Tomorrow? The truth is, I don't know. Right now, we're just two hopeful hearts wanting to give our son the gift of a quiet, adventurous life; the kind of life that leads him to trust God's ultimate plan in end.

And maybe, just maybe, a life that allows him the gift of being able to wander out under old oaks and gold-bleeding sunlight whenever he pleases. 

"We're walking on a thin string/ But I know the Lords got the whole thing in his hands/ We're strangers in this land/ But together could make our way home/ Make our way home."              - Josh Garrels, Songbird