Barely There

So we made it.  We woke up in Tennessee this morning--beloved Tennessee where I half wish I was going to school, drove straight through Georgia from top to bottom, then entered Florida, surrounded by humid twilight, fog-flooded fields—all bathed in a flaming, orange sky catching reflections off the trees.  We’ve got an hour left out of the forty-eight we began with: shore to shore, different climates, landscapes, cultures, people.  

But the one thing that hasn’t changed is my Father.  His love will never fail, His goodness extends boundless in every direction, and I’ll never find the end of wonder.  I’m sure I’ll change—I pray I do.  I pray I’ll grow and stretch in knowledge, but more than that—in love.  Love for people different than me.  And for palm trees.  They’re okay, they’re just not vine maples. 

Then there’s the moon—not full, but hanging luminous and low on the horizon, just beaming around at all the clouds.  And the lightning.  It thrills me, welcomes, me, makes me excited to live in a place that is wild, after all.