By Mary Abrahamson When I was young I pined for a home.  A place to be from.  Before I graduated high school my family and I had lived in five different houses.  This was not a ton, but still quite a bit a change.  New friends, new neighbors, new ways of organizing possessions.   I remember telling my mom once that I was NEVER going to marry a pastor.   “Pastors don’t have homes and I want a home.  I want my kids to have a place to look back on as home, and have sentimental memories about.  And I want them to know where everything is and who all…