As I trudge up the four sets of stairs and struggle to find a switch to shed some light on every dark and unfamiliar corner so that I don’t fall down these steps one more time, I’m reminded that this is not my home.

Don’t get me wrong.  I’m super thankful.

We’re renting a condo while we wait for ours to be built.   It was graciously offered by a friend and kept us from having to endure the pain of competing for a rental property in this crazy East Bay market.

There’s a lovely pool to enjoy and it’s an easy walk to downtown Livermore, with all of its charm and amenities. Our dogs are in heaven with the multiple outings we go on every day as we explore our new surroundings.

There is so much to be grateful for in this waiting place.

But it’s not my real home.  It’s not my permanent address, and for these first weeks I’ve found myself feeling a bit disoriented and, if I’m honest, a little depressed.

I’m sitting on someone else’s couch, using someone else’s kitchen and watching someone else’s tv. Everything feels a little foreign. All of our familiar things – the things that feel like home – are in storage, wrapped and boxed up, just like a Christmas present.

Just waiting for December.  Like me.

If you’ve read this blog for any amount of time, you know that waiting is not my gig.  I’ve hated waiting since I was a little girl sitting on our brown brocade couch on any cool September evening, pouring over the Sears Christmas catalog. Premature Christmas carols playing in the background.  I knew what I wanted and I knew when I wanted it. And I wanted it now.

(Now that I think about it, I never did get that Easy Bake Oven…hmmmm…maybe this is why I hate cooking???)

December always seemed like decades away. The Christmas specials, the holiday cookies, the gifts, the family gathered around the tree.

The greater my anticipation, the greater my longing.

Not a lot has changed.

Here I am again on a beautiful September day wishing for what December holds for me. Only this time it’s someone else’s brown couch I’m sitting on and instead of the Sears Christmas Catalog, I’m pouring over Pottery Barn and Restoration Hardware magazines.

I know what I want and I know when I want it.  I want it now.

But the reality is that our home won’t be ready for another three months.  As in 12 or so weeks.  That’s at least 84 days of waiting for this over-eager soul.

(Part of our construction crew standing in our future home. The guys who are “preparing a place for us.” :-))

Just like way back when, December feels like decades away. I find myself wishing the time away.

The greater my anticipation, the greater my longing.

Made me think.

Temporary home.  Permanent home.

When Paul talked about  the longing for his permanent home he said this:

“We are confident, I say, and would prefer to be away from the body and at home with the Lord.”  2 Corinthians 5:8

Every part of Paul was longing for his true home – heaven.

Toward the end of Paul’s life on this planet,  he experienced things we can barely imagine.  Imprisonment, beatings, verbal abuse.  His body was broken, sick and exhausted. Who wouldn’t long for heaven in his position?

But Paul had a different perspective. His soul was focused on a time and place beyond his present circumstances.  He knew that everything he experienced in that temporary prison cell would pale in comparison to the brilliance of what awaited him.  Eternity with his Father.  No more tears.  No pain.  A joy too deep for words.  Complete freedom from every hindrance and hardship he experienced.

“I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us.”  – Romans 8:18

While Paul longed for what he couldn’t see, while he sat in his “September” position waiting for “December”, he lived as fully as possible in every moment.  He didn’t wish away his days.  He made them count.

He wrote letters of encouragement to churches all around.  He shared his love for Jesus with fellow prisoners and guards. He prayed for others.  And though he didn’t know it then, the words he wrote in that prison cell would still be used by God to touch lives 2,000 years later and beyond.

We all live in this temporary place – planet earth – and we are thankful for it.  Its beauty.  Creation’s provision for our needs.

But it’s not our ultimate destination.

Daily we are reminded that this world is a broken place. We trudge up flights of difficulty, fumble for a light in the darkness, hoping that we won’t lose our footing again and fall on our faces.  We can feel vulnerable and exposed to the elements of hatred and disease and fear.  We’re very aware that this place can’t last forever and its slow demise breaks us from the inside out.

We are waiting.

Sometimes patiently, sometimes not, but we long for our eternal home, where every broken promise, dream, bone and heart are healed.  Where we meet our Father face to face for the very first time.  A place that fulfills every longing we’ve ever had that earth just couldn’t quite satisfy.

It’s “September” and we’re waiting for “December”.

But we can’t, we just CANNOT, wish this time away.  Or this circumstance.  Or this waiting.

Because every single thing that we experience on this earth is prepping us for eternity.  Everything we face helps grow our faith and our love for Jesus. Every encounter can help to shape us into something that looks a little more like Him. And with that increasing depth to our souls comes a little clearer vision of what and WHO it is we really are waiting for it.

The greater our anticipation, the greater our longing.

Can you even imagine the celebration when that wait is finally over???

Our days are filled with “waits”.  Waiting for that phone call or that job offer or a life event. Whatever “waiting” your day holds, I’m praying that you (and I, for Pete’s sake!) will recognize it for what it is:  A chance to experience the presence and love of our Abba Daddy who joins us in the wait.  An opportunity to grow, deepen and increase our anticipation of our true home and the One who is prepping a place for us.

John 14:2-3 – My Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am.