My daughter’s last day at dance is tonight.
And my oldest two will sit under their current piano teacher one last time tomorrow.
And they will bid goodbye to classmates this week.
And I’m a mess.
Thrilled, expectant, excited – but sad.
Happy, sure, ready – but heavy.
And I know this drill.
I’ve packed up many, many times throughout my life. I always feel the elation and the trepidation thick and simultaneously.
But it’s stronger this time.
Looking back at what has transpired in this place over the last 4 years, and looking around at the people, and the objects, and the love that are currently circled around me – I feel the loss of it all.
As I peer out to what is ahead, I feel a very certain call, equipping, anointing, and thrill over what is next.
Moving does this. Your heart and mind end up being a turmoiled but primed mix.
When you transition, what you hope for in the future and what you currently love, collide.
And it makes one feel all the feelings.
I’m letting myself.
Because this is a big one.
We’re flying up and over to northeastern Tennessee here soon because my husband has accepted a pastoral role there. What wild grace.
The folks that are in our upcoming faith family have already made us feel warm, welcomed, and loved thoroughly. I’ve always known that Tennessee people were good people, but now I’m really experiencing it for myself. Bless them.
And the people down here in Gulf coast Texas are loving on us well and sweetly and loosely as we ready to launch. I ache at the thought of saying all these goodbyes.
I’m sitting outside here in the sunshine under my tall Texas pine trees. Chickadees and house sparrows are flitting in and out from every which way feasting on my boy’s bird feed. They rest and indulge and find their filling for a moment and then they’re off again. I hope they follow us as we fly away.
And I hope you do too. I want words to flow often as we go through this shift in seasons.
Big hugs all around.