The other day I drove past another place that’s been erased from my past.
The trees were overgrown, and I barely recognized the familiar road until I got to the entrance.
I felt an ache in my gut: part anxiety, part sadness, part nostalgia, part relief,
It’s the same feeling I get when driving past the trailer I grew up in in the middle of the woods in New Hampshire.
“You better not leave me, or I might disappear into nothingness,” my husband joked.
I have a weird history of being a part of things that no longer exist.
1. 2 out of the 3 High Schools I went to shut down.
2. My first job and the main place I worked when I was 16-18 was also a town landmark to get old-fashioned ice cream shakes, burgers, and fish & chips. It burned to the ground.
3. Teen Mania, which I mentioned above, is the ministry which was the center of my existence when I was 18-22, no longer exists.
4. Youth With A Mission Woodcrest, a small branch of a large ministry where I attended a writing program and ended up traveling all over the world with when I was 22-25, pretty much dissolved.
5. Also, the coffee shop I spent years of my life at either hanging out in or working at is no more.
It’s kinda funny, I know. But here I am at almost 31 and I guess there is not much left in terms of my youth but memories.
I spent those years somewhat of a wanderer, living on a bus and in shared homes and rooms, and I loved everyone moment of it, but then I grew tired and wondered what I was running away from.
Add this to a hundred unfinished projects, and dreams I’ve almost given up on.
I guess what I am saying is while many things may be out of my control, I do have the tendency to jump from one thing to another too fast. Or maybe it’s just the way my life goes. Lately, it has slowed down quite a bit.
I’ve also had the tendency to view people as temporary, too. Like they will just be out of my life soon anyways, why get close? Although, those few that I really let in, stay forever.
I know it’s immature now. I know I can’t just live like a rolling stone my whole life and truly find happiness.
So now my tune has changed, and I while I know there are plenty of adventures to come, I just want a sense of permeance.
I long to put some roots down in a community, and I finally feel like I actually can.
I know I can be connected to a group of people without thinking in the back of my mind, “Soon they will be gone, so what’s the point?”
I want to feel at home in a town. To know the people there, and to let them know me.
I desire to grow something stable and permanent. To plant a seed and watch it grow until years go by and I can sit under its shade with my children’s children.
Yet, to continue to grow and change. To continue to pursue adventure, while still knowing that I always have a safe place to return to.
And I know my husband, my family, is home.
I know everything changes and nothing is truly permanent on this earth.
But what truly matters, is.
While these things fade, love remains.
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