This House is Not My Home

We are in our new house and for Thanksgiving we had 13 people for dinner. This was my first-time baking with a convection oven, setting up tables and chairs in an unfamiliar space, and deciding the best direction to go through the buffet line. Similar to staying in a motel and living out of a suitcase, I can’t automatically do something without stopping to think about what I’m doing, what I need in order to do it and where did I put the things needed to do it with. While I’m enjoying the house, for me it is not yet home. I can relate to the lyrics to the old hymn, “This world is not my home I’m just a passing through…”