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.
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