I get married in twenty-one days. Somehow that sounds shorter than three weeks. And somehow I feel exceptionally ready, while exceptionally naïve to what ready really means.

This morning woke to a prayer time that sought “Home.” What is it? Where is it? Where I am in it? And most importantly, I suppose, Whose am I in the midst of Home?

This is far from the first time such a search has sought my attentions. Often its been quite practically speaking, like when I moved away to college, or overseas, or across the country, or back across the across the country. While other times the search has been more abstract, like this morning. As sunlit beams danced around my bed, my solo existence, and God, sat still.

This has been my home, Father, but in twenty-one days, it will be no longer. The views will change. Different windows, different sounds, different smells… My single existence here will be no more.

Empty boxes caught my gaze, waiting to be filled with material contents making-up something of my current home. But in a few short weeks, they’ll be moved a few short miles to the home of my fiancé, and there become the material contents deriving parts of our new home’s existence.

How does this happen though, God? How does our material existence affect our spiritual existence? How do my things become Micah’s, and vice versa. What does it mean to become one? What does it mean to truly share of my self and my soul and my story—and to love such from my husband? Even my bed, God, will never again harbor my dreams alone. What though, might You have this look like? How might we respect and honor one another, spiritually, physically, sexually, emotionally…? How might we move each other closer to Home?

Life will change a lot in the next twenty-one days. I’ll finish planning a wedding. I’ll pack-up one apartment and begin finding home in another. I’ll walk down an aisle with my father. I’ll say lifelong vows in the eyes of my Father. I’ll marry my best friend. I’ll gain a new family. I’ll have sex. I’ll embark upon learning life as a married woman. And all throughout, I’ll be searching for Home.

Jesus, only in You do we truly find Home. Only in you can we truly find rest. Remind me of such a posture these hours. Remind us of the Arms in whom we are found.