Where are you?

This is the question I'm getting. Over and over. I feel very noticed, so thanks!

The answer to the question is, I'm busy at home -- and in the Home Stretch of my swim across the Tiber River. Easter Vigil is right around the corner, and I'm trying to get spiritually ready to make my first confession and receive Jesus in the Eucharist for the first time. I'm also trying to pick a confirmation name, which is surprisingly difficult because there are just so many amazing saints to choose from. Right now I'm particularly enamored of Francis de Sales, Monica, and Therese of Lisieux. Not to mention Mary, who suddenly fascinates me thanks to our parish priest sharing some unique thoughts about her -- but I'm still so confused about her place in my life that I don't feel I can take her name as my own.

Meanwhile, we're putting our house on the market. My family lives in a narrow 3 level townhome, and the stairs and the lack of running space for my almost-two-year-old BOY BOY (BOY is he active) and the lack of yard and the multiple families crammed into a single unit across the street who favor really loud gangsta rap and late-night visitors and letting kids run wild are just too much to deal with anymore.

So we're going to move. And moving means selling, and selling means a thousand projects we should have done years ago so as to enjoy their fruits, but never got around to, and also a lot of plain old stress. So the time I would normally spend pondering theology and writing about it here has been spent packing extraneous stuff into boxes, pushing a paint roller, searching the listings database for new digs, and arguing with my poor husband about how much money we can afford to spend on the house of our dreams. Or any house at all.

Thanks be to God that He is the God who meets us even in the midst of boxes, tape, magic markers and Magic Erasers. Otherwise I'd have gone completely insane by now.