I’ve been dreaming a lot about homes recently… in my sleeping dreams, that is.  Houses/apartments/neighborhoods have all appeared decked in regalia from simple to chic.  None have been places that I’ve ever lived or seen… at least none that my conscious mind can remember.  One friend has repeatedly shown up in these dreams as the owner of the home I was visiting… so I called her up on Friday and basically asked if I could come spend the night.  Sure! she said.  A change of scenery and little retreat time along with a fabulous burrito from Tafolino’s was just what I needed.

Cathi and I have been friends for about 20 years now.   She still works at the church where we first put our toes into the ministry waters and even though a lot of things have changed, many have stayed the same.  As with other ministry friends, we have walked hundreds of miles in each other’s shoes.  Someday I will share more of those stories.

We haven’t been together for quite a while, so the talk always starts with the light-hearted chitchat of family and current events… then moves to the successes and frustrations of shop talk (church work) and then onto the spiritual matters of the soul.  By the time breakfast comes around the next morning, we are ready to discuss decisions and steps we need to take to free ourselves from our own worst enemies.  Advice changes hands rapidly until we both come to a point where we are so forceful with each other that it’s time to part… like two big burly football players who have wrestled to the ground during the play and now stand chest-to-chest screaming in each other’s faces.  Our conversations are never mean, but we do have the gift of total honesty which sometimes means saying exactly what the other doesn’t want to hear.  Each of us knows the other is right on target… so we accept our medicine, hug and say goodbye.  Then I drive the 5-hour journey home processing all that has transpired.  This time we were a little gentler coming into the end-of-the-play skirmish.

I was telling her about my home dreams and she put this word out on the table… nomad.  We got into the whole What next? conversation and she said… People must have had these same experiences way back when… what did they do? Well… they wandered in the desert for 40 years is what they did.

The story of the great Exodus in the Bible tells how Moses led the Hebrews out of their enslavement in Egypt, leading them into the desert toward God’s promised land.  But it doesn’t just refer to their departure; it also includes all those years of wandering in search of God’s reward for their faithfulness.  We too find ourselves in a modern-day Exodus—all those who are departing/have already left/are trying to decide and continue wandering in search of a spiritual home.

The word ‘nomad’ hit the mark in me… the true spot… as did the idea of Exodus…  and the home dreams began to make sense.  In an earlier blog I wrote about being on the road and under cover/feeling like… strangely enough… a nomad.  Funny how everything comes full circle.

Someday I’ll get it, God… someday.


About Elaine Menardi

Heading off on a new adventure! I solve problems and make ideas happen.

4 responses »

  1. Rox says:

    nomad |ˈnōˌmad|
    a member of a people having no permanent abode, and who travel from place to place to find fresh pasture for their livestock.
    • a person who does not stay long in the same place; a wanderer.

    Some images of the nomad. Raised in Wyoming, in fourth grade, I was given the image of the Plains Indians, self sufficant nomads, spiritually connected to the environment, using only what they needed, following the bison who followed the grasslands.

    A foreign film Urga – Close to Eden, filmed in Mongolia, about nomads with breath taking images of grasslands. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L1JEDB0YdIA

    I mentioned yesterday, I may have left, but it feels more like, I may have moved forward, stepped over some stumbling stones, out the door into the breeze, blowing in my hair, as it can in Wyoming, onto the grasslands, following my God. Out into the quiet, away from the structures and my concern about changing them, so I can listen to her, play with her, be embraced by her, then try to understand what she wants of me.

    It doesn’t feel like leaving, but moving as a nomad, looking for new pasture; dropping judgment, dropping anger, stepping out as I did as a child the first days of spring weather, overcome by the newness of the world.

  2. elmenardi says:

    You nailed it Rox… I love your images and your words! So what next? Let’s explore together 🙂

  3. […] might just be the time in my life when I actually stop struggling.  When I was visiting my friend Cathi, late in the night she said to me:  Stop trying to control everything and just let things […]

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