This time around the goodbyes were harder, the tears sprang to my eyes more quickly, and the turning around to head home came less willingly.
And I think it’s partly because, more than ever, I knew that Washington didn’t feel like home anymore.
The two places that I felt at home were at my parents home and at my in-laws home. I felt at home with our families, and it was so sweet.
But everywhere else felt a little strange...a little distant.
The church we were raised in and loved felt new and different. The church that was born right after we moved felt new and fresh. But both times, I missed the worn linoleum and brown folding chairs of our church in Florida...of our home.
And coming home to Florida didn’t feel strange and exciting this time. It felt normal. It felt like returning to real life. And I think that’s how home should feel.
Stepping back into church on Sunday, breathing in the damp air, and seeing palm trees standing tall outside my window are all sweeter than I remember. They’re pieces of this place that’s home now...of this place that God has called us. It’s not always easy or fun or exciting, but it’s home and it’s where I know we’re supposed to be.
A huge piece of our hearts will remain forever with our families over 3000 miles away, but home isn’t there anymore...
...and it’s at the same time harder and sweeter than I ever imagined.
Be blessed <3