I’m currently sitting on the floor eating oreo cookies in a dark, dark, hotel conference room. It’s dark because Emma is sleeping, and we don’t want to wake Phoebe who is sleeping upstairs in our hotel room. I’m eating oreo cookies because I had to use the atm at the local gas station so that I could insert four quarters into the hotel dryer. We have the next sixty minutes to sit in the dark silence before our laundry is complete.

We’re currently in North Carolina but have been on the road for a week with the littles. We’re in the thick of it, and I am so tired. I had hoped to leave some really good advice about travel on this blog post, but my energy is seriously waning to pound out those best 1-2-3 travel tips just yet. It may require some time of reflection to get to that point. There are good days, and there are bad days. There are days when I am focused on routine and schedules and days that I just let everything loose.

Nearly five years ago Michael and I married in a suburb of Chicago. A month later, we packed our bags and started our life together back where we met in North Iraq. At the time, we had to take a bus to the border of Turkey, and cross over by foot.

I remember the identity of “wife” so clearly prescribed to me in the transfer from one country to another. In that context, the new last name signaled complete dependency on my husband. Before marriage, I was single and freely roamed with dignity, treated as a foreigner, spoken to as someone with a purpose. At border patrol, I was asked questions without a second thought as to whether or not I deserved the attention.

Yet, this time, my first time as a married woman, it seemed, no one cared. I felt invisible.

I’m learning that transition, or movement from one place to another – unsettles the narrative I’ve grown accustomed to and forces a new presumed identity. Naturally, no one wants to fall into a box, we need to assert our unique decisions that led us here. Is the desire to be unique a form of vanity? Or is it simply wanting to be more than the Status quo?

We’ve moved a lot.

In four years, Michael and I have moved into seven homes in three countries – from North Iraq to Jordan to Costa Rica.

Moving touches on the relational, the personal, physical and spiritual realms of our lives. It brings up expectations we weren’t aware of, and can result in a form of discontentment if we are not careful to flex muscles of grace.

I chose to name the blog space “journeys in the deep” because a life of faith is kind of wild like that. It’s a journey of reckless abandon, complete with tossing and turning of waves, and full of wonder. Somedays there are storms that seem like they will never end, and somedays there is absolute calm.