It’s late and I really should be sleeping in my freezing house. I’m on the couch in the living room since I no longer have a bed in this house. Or really much of anything. I’ve got that black bag over there with my clothes, a paper grocery bag with what’s left of the non-perishable and the non-frozen food I own. There’s my sleeping bag that’s keeping me from a slow peaceful death. My backpack that weighs a ton. Oh, I’ve got my ditty bag and toiletries in the bathroom and some clothes in the laundry.
I guess I no longer live here, just am visiting.
Today was good, I went to church for the first time in ages. Worship was off the hook, but I really like Pastor Dennis’ message today. It just really seemed applicable to my life. It was about the first part of Judges and how Joshua had to move from the old (under Moses) to the new (being a leader of his own). It just seemed to fit since I’m sort of in the same time of my life. Dennis’ story and lesson about the three stages of moving gave me more of an idea of what to expect when I end my time here. When I am dead, and there’s nothingness. And when I’m alive and growing in my new environment. For everyone else, it’s just the end of the year and hope for the new. For me, it’s a little bigger.
I’m am moving. Tonight’s my last night. My last night in Tuolumne County.
Andrew said that he felt this was a time for growth – not the normal “time for growth” where you’re being stretched with extreme circumstances, but more of the growth of when spring comes and the grasses pop up, and the new shoots come off the branches, and there’s new life all around.
But like any seed, I must first die before I can grow.
I’ve said my good byes. I’ve fought back tears hugging in the foyer of the church. I’ve felt that sicking feeling when I’ve thought of life without my friend while I was on stage listening to conversations. I’ve had the hope of old relationships in new ways with when I won’t see them face to face possibly ever again. I’m going to have weeks nights and weekends with nothing to do, no one to spend them with. No more adventures with people I can count on to send for help if the cave collapses, no one to push me to do things I normally wouldn’t, no one to make me laugh and think is crazy just with the stupid things he does.
And then tomorrow I have to say good-bye to Lindsey.
I’m not sure this one has sunk in yet, since we’ve been having semi-long distance relationship already. But getting a Lindsey fix isn’t going to be as easy or as cheap as driving two hours away to Tracy to have a date night.
I’m hoping that I have grace and the strength to survive.
I’m going to miss you all.