9 Months

9 months.

That's the full term length of a human pregnancy.  

That's also the length of time I've been bouncing between LA, New York, and Michigan, without an official residence to call my home. 

After loosing nearly everything in Hurricane Sandy, the little I have left is stashed in a corner of my parents' basement.  For the most part, I've been living out of suitcases.  Tomorrow I pack up my car Machi (he's part Romanian, part Japanese) and drive into the unknown.  I'll be heading East, but I don't know how long I'll be away.  I don't know if I'll be in the city for a short visit, or if I'll be returning there for the long term.  I admitted to the guy from down the shore I am scared to go back, but I know I need to go.  My health has wavered the past few weeks, and so have my aspirations and dreams.  I'm no longer certain I want New York - and you have to WANT New York in order to make it in New York.  Although I look forward to returning to my church community, I'm hesitant to return to city life, where the seemingly simplest of tasks, like doing laundry and getting groceries, are a near nightmare.  But again, I KNOW I need to go. 
  
Last summer a friend told me it seemed like I was 9 months pregnant, ready to give birth.  I wondered for a second if it was her polite way of telling me my stomach looked a bit big, and should start working my midsection more, instead of just going running.

But rather than recommending a work out plan, she continued on to tell me it seemed God was getting ready to do some great things in and through me.  And that this new season of life was about ready to burst forth.  She insisted, it wouldn't be long now before I'd be giving birth.

I considered her words in November as I scavenged through my basement level storage unit in New York, trying to salvage anything I could.  Everything had been submerged by the rains and overflow of the Hudson River, mixed with sewage and whatever else happened to be on the streets of New York that Tuesday the hurricane hit the city.

As I sifted through the mess, I considered, if I was pregnant, perhaps this hurricane was my water breaking before giving birth.  Perhaps.  But it seems my "pregnancy" is more like that of an elephant's - which lasts nearly two years. 

I head back to New York tomorrow, and maybe this will be THE beginning of this new life.  We shall see... an interview on Monday, and a few other important meetings and interviews over the course of the next few weeks.