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The past month has been FULL.

Full of traveling.

Full of family time in Hawaii.

Full of Lenten fasting and Holy Week planning.

Full of Ikea trips and Target looking to figure out what our little one will live in and with.

Full of time to think.

It's amazing what 15 hours both ways on a plane from Charlottesville to Kailua can do for your soul. It had been a very very long time since I had the space to think about life in the big ways instead of life in the small-- what are we eating for dinner-- what time can I fit a gym run in-- sort of way.

And for most of that time I thought about home, probably because I was leaving one for another. I thought about Charlottesville home, my pictures on the wall, my chocolate brown couches, the routine we've created here. And I thought about Kailua, the way I can feel what the weather will do, the way each road carries with it a memory, the way my town looks when you get through the tunnel on the H3... like a little Eden.

I was feeling very 'in between' as I flew from VA to HI. Where do I belong? What does it mean to be home? Is it where most of your memories live? Is it where my family is? It is where I was called by God to be? I have no answers for those questions, I struggle with them daily. But the other day as I sat on my chocolate brown couches watching way too much Netflix and feeling very pregnant I looked over and saw this...

The man who has made me fall in love with him a million times. The man who is so stoic it can make me crazy. The man who refuses to get a new wedding band, even though his is scratched, bent, and tattered (after only 3 years) because it's the one we started with. The man who moved across the country with me because of a still small voice that gave us a call. The man who asked my best friend's permission to marry me over pancakes because he knew how important it was. The father of the baby that grows within me....

and I realized

Home is where my husband is.