What started out as a mere seedling sprouted tender leaves and took in the sun. We put down our roots and grew. Our foliage was beautiful beyond measure. We drank of the water from the fertile soil found in Chapel Hill. It's growing conditions were perfect for our tender flora. Like a cactus in it's desert. Like an orchid in it's rain forest. Our family in Chapel Hill.
Sixty-seven miles. Our family of five drove eastward today back to the place we called home for 7 years. 7 years. Through the thick and thin, friends and family, joy and struggle, our experience fostered growth. It created character. It fundamentally changed us. The people we met. We service we received. The examples we emulated. The callings we served. The hats we wore. The experiences. The culminating experience.
There was never a place so right for us. It was a beautiful thing. We exited different than we entered. But upon return today, the realization hit: this is no longer home. A strange feeling to feel in a place so familiar, but it was glaring in our faces. This is no longer home.
The colors are changing. So beautifully. Our colors are changing. So beautifully. We have a new home. Our roots, though not as deep yet, are pushing downward. Our foliage, though changing it's colors, is reaching higher. Our leaves are turning over a readiness to be all that we received. And it feels good...in a place that feels so right. Again.
*pictures taken by me at the North Carolina zoo in Asheboro
1 comment:
as long as you don't forget about us and still let us visit, i will allow you to sever your ties here.
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