I can tell you all day that a place is perfect. And, I know it isn't perfect. And, it doesn't even make it perfect for you. But, it can still be perfect for me. I mean, come on, who really sings a love song to a place? But, we all need a little Carly Rae Jepsen & Justin Beiber on a Tuesday evening:
Hello, I know it's been a while
I wonder where you are
And if you think of me
Sometimes cause you're always on my mind
You know I had it rough
Tryin' to forget you but
The more that I look around
The more I realize
You're all I'm lookin' for
What makes you so beautiful
Is you don't know how beautiful you are
To me
You're not tryin' to be perfect
Nobody's perfect
But you are
To me
It's how you take my breath away
Feel the words that I don't say...
And, let's be real. The place isn't perfect without the imperfect people that fill its neighborhoods.
The process of leaving and grieving has been long and difficult. It's not over, but this weekend was a piece of what we needed.
First of all, we pulled into our former hometown and fell in love all over again with the mounds of snow and frozen lake and streets filled with charm. But, really, none of that is what made it home. So, then, we dove right into our jam-packed schedule of catching up with friends. The hugs and smiling faces so familiar were exactly what we needed. Cozying up in friends' homes with the fireplace burning while the kids played in the basement and restaurant visits where friends came pouring in and fourth grade girls bowling excursions turned into unexpected fun and conversation was all exactly what we needed.
Our moments were filled with stories of new and old. But, something important happened in those moments. These friends who have walked all sorts of roads with us reminded me of who I am. They sat across the table and listened. They shared their lives with me like they always have. They reminded me of how God made me. Most importantly, they reminded me who God is. They reminded me of His sovereignty and His goodness. They reminded me that He calls us, He moves us, and He doesn't abandon us. Short statements and long conversations throughout our weekend confronted me with truth and love. I remembered that I am not alone.
And, the tune in my head began to change...
The final destination was our former school. It was quite emotional walking down the sidewalk and up to the old brick building taking up a city block. But, our fears and uncertainties were soon filled with smiles and reunions like nothing I have ever experienced. It was like coming home to family. You know--how family opens the door and accepts you even with your bruises and scars. And they pour themselves out for you so you leave better than you were before. They do it by taking your daughter’s face in their hands and telling her how loved she is and proud they are, and you know just for a second, everything is going to be okay. And, when the tears start pouring, there is no rejection, only listening ears and compassionate words. And, once again I was reminded of what we are called to. Instead of lonely, I felt sent out by all these faces and stories we represent as we move on and love and serve and give.
So I would say, it was still hard to leave. But my tears weren’t just filled with sadness; they were also filled with hope. Hope that it can be okay. Hope that our presence where we are matters. In West Virginia. Even though it is hard, we aren’t going to hide. Because, as Buck always says, "Webbs do hard things." We are going to be bearers of hope. And, we have a long journey of learning to invest in a new culture, a new home. But, I hope that on our toughest days, we will remember the words of truth and hope and encouragement spoken this weekend. I hope we will remember who God says we are and this adventure He created us for.
And, I'll be singing a different song:
So let go my soul and trust in Him
The waves and wind still know His name
It is well with my soul
It is well with my soul
It is well with my soul
It is well, it is well, with my soul
Comments