Today is bittersweet because it officially marks the end of the sixth month of being back up here. It’s been such a sweet transition place and my parents have been beyond generous to let us take up their adorable studio for way longer than any of us intended, but at the same time, I miss my stuff. I only packed my winter clothes and now it’s getting sunny. Every night I put Abbie in her little bassinet and notice she only has a couple of inches left until she outgrows that too. Will we be putting a crib in here? Squeezing in bunk beds eventually? Every day, Greg cautiously opens the door of the closet of doom and tries to grab the desired item without everything toppling out onto the floor. Every day he fails and we shove it all back in, only to play the game again the next day. And every time I quickly wash my hands in our itty bitty sink, I remember how small it really is and how powerful that water can be when you turn it on too strong and find yourself standing in a puddle, yet again. I take a deep breath and say one day at a time, one day at a time. He is faithful. He will provide. And then I look around and I see an albeit tiny apartment for a family of 3 + one large dog, but nevertheless an apartment that has miraculously made room for every single thing we didn’t store + the baby gear we continue to receive. It’s the little apartment where we welcomed our Little Abbie into the world. It’s the little place that allowed us to come back up here in the first place! I see a bassinet that still holds my baby girl, even though she’s growing longer and longer at lightening speed. I get to wake up to her joyful coos right next to me every morning which we probably would have missed if we had a nursery and a vacant crib. I see a catch-all closet that generously allows us to put everything we can’t fit in the little drawers, in there. I am SO thankful all that stuff doesn’t have to be on the floor and we can close the door and pretend it’s all organized. I see a sink and a tiny bathroom that is there for our convenience and we don’t even have to go up to the main house to use it, not to mention the many delightfully awkward opportunities Greg and I get to laugh about, as we both try to cram in there to get ready for the day. This year in BSF, we are studying the life of Moses, which I gotta say, I wasn’t too thrilled about. So much of the Old Testament goes right over my head and honestly seems so weird and boring. BUT every week I come out marveling at how ohmygosh! I am a grumbling Israelite! He provides and He provides and He provides and I complain and complain and complain! And every week I see His heart and how much He loves them and how incredibly faithful He is. He led us back up here and He will continue to lead us to our next place but man sometimes (ahem, all times) it’s hard to wait for His timing. [PS Greg said I have to stop calling Pasadena my Egypt. I wasn’t a slave, he says.] But now, as I look down at my sweaty, sleeping baby all snuggled into my side, look outside at ALL THE GREEEN!!! and look into my sweet husbands eyes when he reassures me that it’s all going to be okay, how can I not be thankful? I am so blessed. And despite not being in our own place six months later, He is still, so good.