Sooooo.....I promise picture updates next. Promise. But first, other updates.

The problem with this whole journey is that it feels like I'm (we're) always leaving friends. We started in Lethbridge -- really, for me the journey started in the tiny southern Alberta town of Vulcan. If you've never lived in a small rural community, you probably don't know the kind of relationships that are formed through the closeness to other people. It was hard to leave that little town -- hard to leave the people I knew, respected, and appreciated -- but I knew that the journey would worthwhile.

So I moved to Lethbridge for my undergrad degree -- and found a whole new community. Communities, really. What I learned from the fine people at Lutheran Church of the Good Shepherd left me with a deep love of forming community and living in it. The campus chaplain at the University of Lethbridge just doesn't know how appreciated she is -- in a tough time in my life she was a rock, helping me to be grounded and loving me with simply human decency when many other people around me would rather have seen me as less than human. My professors at the University -- really, if you're familiar with Terry Pratchett's "Discworld" series, just think of the wizard faculty at Unseen University -- asked me what I wanted from my degree and challenged me to achieve those dreams.

And of course, I met the woman I love, and we formed a community with many near and dear friends. We made a life together, worked on a future together, and then began a family together. Then, we had to leave. I still remember crying together with a dear friend before we left, as the wee Boy was still in the hospital. It was so hard to leave.

Saskatoon was different, though, and of the places we've lived it's the one place that we looked forward to leaving again -- not because of anything bad about the city, and we did try to find a community -- but the whole lifestyle of Seminary is one of transition. Coming and going, going forth and returning, the rhythms of life are more tuned to study and preparation than to forming community (despite the best intentions of us students).

But Calgary, and Hope, was different. Way, way different.

If you're reading this, and you're a pastor, you've been on internship. You've built those relationships. You've moved in and moved out.

But let me own this: if you were single, you have no idea what it was like for the co-Director and I. I'm sorry; you just don't. If you were married without children, you still don't know. If you did the route like us, our little family in a big world, then you maybe know what it was like.

But you still don't know Hope.

More than any other place we've ever known, Hope was home. H-O-M-E. and for someone like me, whose own home growing up was transitory -- and as a military brat, so was the co-Director -- finally finding a place we wanted to stay was like being able to stop for a year and drink deeply from the finest springs in the most peaceful place imaginable. This, in the middle of Calgary. Yes, I'm serious. Calgary is 'home' for us in ways that no other place has ever been.

But we've moved again. I've no desire to replay the emotional, mental, and physical toll that this move and all it's baggage cost us. Save to say that it's a rare group of people that can come together and support people so strongly as that community at Hope did for us. It was incredible, and I'll never be able to thank the people enough for all their help, support, and prayers.

So now we're back in Saskatoon. I've taken a course -- "Revitalizing Rural Ministries" -- that was really worth the work. Great course, and I'm certain that a better name for the course would simply be 'Revitalizing Ministries'. I do love what I study, that's for certain.

and so, we stand at the edge of the beginning of our next great adventure -- in relationship with our Redeemer, blessed and kept in grace through the prayers and love of the people in our community.

We are truly blessed.