These words from the Psalmist are a cry from a people who were taken from their homes and placed in slavery/servitude to their captors far away from their native soil, not a pleasant thought. For the last two weeks I have not written a blog as I was preparing to move to a new home. The primary reason for not writing was not the effort of moving, that was really not so time consuming, but rather from a block of spirit, of feeling strained not only by moving once again, but by the need to move for reasons beyond my control, like the Isrealites I felt spiritually separated.
I was given a beautiful gift by my friend Colleen to stay at her beautiful l’ Antica Veteria, however, with so much work to be done in the off-season before guests started arriving, things got more chaotic than expected by anyone. Because of this there were weeks which necessitated moving about the inn, and the future looked even more full of moving, in addition, the work being done was causing unexpected issues. All this added up to a necessity for me to spend very few hours in the apartment and more roaming around the public areas of the village of Piegaro. At some point I started feeling increasingly homeless, an irony given I have been writing for/with my friends of Mary’s Place in mind, using their wisdom as a guide for my writing. Nowhere in the recommendation of the women was, experience the feeling of being homeless. Unable to hang out in my own lodgings for long periods of time, and feeling a dependence on people I appreciate and love, but who are new in my life was challenging, add to this being the “new girl in town” and all the gossip and craziness that goes with it. This had me searching for a place to call home in this village that makes my heart sing.
Now Piegaro is a small village, and it became even more obvious that it is small when I could only find 3 apartments available for rent. Looking at them made me feel a bit like Goldilocks trying out the furniture, which would be too hard, too soft, and please God, one that was Just Right! The first one I looked at had a beautiful view, and was incredibly grand, very large and at an amazingly low price…until you added up the “extras”. The extra in this case was a landlord desiring a kiss, a sit on his lap, and wink, wink….definitely this was Too Hard! The second was also grand, very, VERY large with no view, and very modern….and a suspicious landlady who didn’t really trust this woman in the bright orange raincoat….this was Too Soft!! But as grace would have it there was yet the third one to look at. It sits across the street from my friend’s home but it looked like more than I would want.
Upon entrance into the third home though, I discovered some great similarities to the homes of a couple of my friends, a formal entrance, and multiple rooms, all which could be conveniently closed off when not in use, I appreciated a sense of familiarity. Also there was the wonderful terrace at the front with 3 rooms with great large glass doors and amazing views, wow. The fact that the kitchen, where I love to live, was one of the three rooms was sweetening the deal, and then I saw it, there in the tiny cucina sat the stuffa, a multi-purpose wood stove that could heat, cook and dry clothes all at the same time. Now I’m sold, but still keeping the poker face, until….we climbed one more set of stairs to the rooftop terrace and the world opened up before me, from the village clock tower, to Mt. Arale, to the sheep meadows where I enjoyed my daily walks, it is all there to view. The poker face was gone, I was in heaven, I had found HOME.
In the midst of all the contracts, legalese and timing, of course I would injure myself and delay the move, nothing comes easy. But today I find myself sitting in the kitchen window/door to terrace in front of the stuffa with lunch roasting in the oven, clothes hanging over while drying and simply relaxing as my friend Maria insisted I do until she returns on Monday. And this is where the fullness of the beauty of this home comes in, my friends who are so close by, I’ve already had various folks over for meals, I have lovely Lila who stays with me when she needs and this feels like a family place. And it is more than the family of new found friends here in Italy, it is Maria insisting I get rest so that I will be 100% healed from my injury when my lovely daughter Katy arrives. This new home has room for all family, a great welcoming place. A place for people of our loving God, a place for writing, eating, sleeping, LIVING, it is my home in Italy. Now I can rest, be in a heart and mind of Sabbatical, and do what my friends at Mary’s Place suggested, “remember why you are there.”
Lent begins this week, time for reflection, writing and listening to God’s calling in life. I am thankful that I have a place called home to be for this. A place at the top of the world, where my friend exclaimed “you can see Seattle from here,” and I do, I see all who love me and sent me off to Italy with hope, grace and encouragement. It is good to feel at home, no longer in a strange land, and able to sing the Lord’s song once again.
How do you find hope to sing in a strange land when you feel disconnected?
What makes a place a home for you?
What do you do when you are feeling spiritually separated?
If you participate in Lenten practices what are they and how do they feed your soul?
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