Home Sweet Home - Part 2

One week ago, my parent's home officially sold their home. My definition of home goes way beyond the 4 walls that hold up a roof, but it includes the space inside. Whenever anyone asks me where "home" is, I never know how to answer. I usually say "I'm from all over the place" or "my parents live in Indiana" or turbo-tongue all the places I've lived the past 30 years. If I had to choose where my home is, California feels most like home out of anywhere that I've lived but my family - Getz's and Diaz's - will always BE my home.Since my parents informed us of their move, I've been thinking about the significance of HOME in relationship to our little ones. Their home will always be Ethiopia, but it will also be wherever Brian and I are with them. I've often prayed for the monumental transition they will face in location, parents, health, culture, and language. I've wondered how their little bodies and souls will fare the change in "home". In the midst of my questions and motherly fears, I trust their Father is caring for them more than I ever will.
Ultimately, this world is not our home. My dad's said that to me countless times. And he's right [no gloating here, pops!]. Maybe when people ask me where I'm from and I stumble to find an answer, it's okay. Because this world is not my home, nor is it for our kiddos.

Hope you enjoyed the pics of the backyard my dad painstakingly designed over the past decade. And that's our dog, Lizzie [below], who's the sweetest thing in the world. [She's currently living with my cousin's family while my parents are in a transition apartment.]