Today

            Today I cruised around town for yard sales and came away with a plant stand and two flower pots for my front porch, two shirts, and a darling hand-painted telephone table.

            Today I saw Benjamin after he got home from his eye surgery and gave him some cuddles and sang him some songs.

            Today I put my Multnomah Falls poster in a frame.

            Today I watched Joelle for part of the afternoon so that both Dana and Shawn could nap while Benjamin did.

            Today I prayed for Hilary Welch Blount, her family, and her friends.  Hilary, a vivacious and talented woman of about 30, whom I never had the opportunity to meet, died of complications from an unexpected and severe bout of ulcerative colitis. 

            Today I have found myself humming and singing songs of worship and praise.  In life and in death, in blessings big and small, in the details of the everyday, in grief and in joy, God is worthy of our praise.  Why He gave me this quiet sense of worship today, I do not know.  But I am grateful for it.

            Last night’s email from my brother John was a reality check:  he has found someone to rent the cabin long-term.  Wow.  I am very glad for him and pretty sad for me.

            Perhaps “nostalgic” is the better term.  To realize that I will not be staying there in the cabin when I visit (at first he had thought about doing vacation rentals) hits me hard.  It was most definitely home, a place of refuge in what Mom called “the middle of beauty.”  And now it is not.  Home, that is. 

            I have no regrets about moving, though I miss the magnificent mountains, water, and woods and the many friends who graced my life with their unique personalities and amazing giftedness. 

It is a marvel how much God healed me emotionally and spiritually during those five years on the island.  I come back to the Midwest a different person than when I left:  confident, secure, grounded in faith.  I find myself happily plunging into new opportunities for service, worship, writing, and music.  It is as if God has thrown wide the doors to my soul so I can embrace the present with joy even while I miss the past. 

            

            First, he looks surprised.  Then a smile spreads across his dear little face.  He walks over to me and laughs as he hugs me.  That is how Benjamin greets me each time I show up at his house.  Joelle smiles, revealing her four new teeth.  And I am happy.

            The days take shape with the business of settling in to a new place.  Someday soon, I hope, the last box will be unpacked; my computer, printer, and scanner will be set up; and the pictures will be hung.  Then, perhaps, I will remember to write again. 

            I miss the breathtaking majesty of snow-capped peaks and blue Sound water.  I miss the towering fir trees, the beach walks, and the twenty-mile drives between Greenbank and Oak Harbor.  I miss the health food aisles at Payless and Saars and the ubiquitous coffee drive-throughs.  I miss Chancel Choir, Tradewinds, and Enchanted Flute Choir.  I miss my life group, session, and writing for The Log.

            Yet I savor the Midwestern sunshine and autumn’s brilliant colors.  I am continually amazed at the size and comfort of my new home.  I cherish the time I have with my daughter, son-in-law, and grandchildren.  I look forward to learning the names of all the people I have met at church.  And I wonder how God’s plan for me will unfold here.