What I don't want to leave behind

I suppose if I could, I would invite you over.  We would sip coffee or tea, whatever your pleasure may be, and sit for a while talking about things that matter and things that don't.

I would share with you how we are still trying to get settled after eight weeks of moving, and how I'm not sure we ever will be.  You see, my life is different now.  I would try to explain how, but I'm quite sure the words would fail me just as they have every other time since I've come to this realization.

I am stuck in transition.  I think about this as I lie down in a bed that I've paid for, but no longer feel is mine.  It is a familiar possession, but one that I know is temporary.  Soon, I will leave it behind, because I'm just passing through.


Every single day I think about that future I am walking towards.  I know where I'm going, and I know something of what it takes to get there. I'm excited and I'm scared.  I am joyful and I am sad.  But always I am moving forward.

I don't know what life will look like there.  I do know that I have been holding less tightly to things, and more intentionally to people.  Objects won't sustain me when I'm lonely.  They won't encouraged me when I am overwhelmed by the limits of my circumstance.  They won't call me on the phone to let me know they are thinking about me, and they won't message me a joke when I desperately need to be reminded that life is more enjoyable when I'm laughing.

I don't want to leave any good thing unsaid, because one day I won't be here to say it.  So if we could sit side by side on my blue button tufted couch, I would tell you what you mean to me.  I'd share stories of the good I see in you, and how that has inspired me to be a better person.  I would do my best to give you the gift of knowing you are loved and cared for, not only by me, but by the One who created you.  Because I can see it, and I believe it.  I want that for you too.

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