Contract

I just signed a Contract.

For just an 8 letter word, it sure has some heavy connotations! Similar to the weight of words like
'subpoena'
or
'pregnant'.
(Ok, maybe that's a little over-dramatic, but you get the point.)

The contract I signed was a lease on a house for a year. Not such a big deal, but considering I've been living out of piles of clothes stuffed into one little cabinet and a hanging rack suspended between two window sills, it's like I finally signed my heart into the place I'll call home.

Granted, I've been here over 8 months already and I'm a lot more used to what is "normal" over here, but I never had anything "permanent." (If you can call a one-year lease that.)

For 3 months I lived out of a backpack as we traveled all over Thailand, then I spent 3 months in a small room filled with 3 bunkbeds and a bathroom, about 10 km from the nearest English-Speaker. And the last 2 months I've been living in a 2 bedroom townhouse with two other roommates with the intention of moving again by the end of May.

And now all of a sudden there's something grounding me. The cursive writing in blue ink surrounded by articles and conditions in a different kind of "cursive." I have a place to sleep, to relax, to have friends over and a place to escape when the ickyness that is lurking just below eye-level attempts to squeeze my heart of the last few drops and force me to give up or search airline ticket prices.

This is home. Not because I'll soon have a room filled with things I put there, or because we'll have friends hanging out on the couch (once we buy one), but it'll be home because God brought me here.

But this has already been home. It has been ever since God stepped off the plane with me back in September. But now the difference is that I have a legal document testifying what my heart feels - it just took me awhile to let it have a pen.