Guest column by Bethany Getz Almost exactly nine years ago on a sweltering day in early summer, Evan and I drove for miles along Westheimer in a rental car. One-year-old Clara sweated and squirmed in the back seat. Evan was in the midst of finishing up his dissertation and looking forward to his first year as a professor at Houston Baptist University, and we had taken a few days off to travel to Houston to find a place to rent. It was not going well. I cried as we drove down Westheimer, which at six to eight lanes wide was still congested. The businesses, strip malls, and huge apartment complexes strung one after another for miles. Used to the much smaller town of Waco, I felt overwhelmed by the vast, busy impersonality of Houston: how could our little family of three ever be at home here? But we did find a home, and more importantly, we learned to be at home here. Both were a long process. Since that teary drive down Westheimer, our family of three has doubled in…
