As I prepare to embark on another cross-country move, I am struck with how solitary, lonely if I dare say it, journeys can be.
It is strange, and a little ironic, because past, present and future days are overflowing with friends and family. But yet crossing the bridge from the land of sun, surf and Bentleys to the land of churches, honky-tonkys and green pastures is something I must do all alone.
California friends can’t quite understand what I am running to and Tennessee friends can’t quite understand what I am leaving behind. No one person, here nor there, completely understands the sadness, joy, excitement, fulfillment, contentment, loss, fear, and worry that have camped out in my soul and decided to have a slumber party.
Yes, the bridge between two lands can be a little lonely.
Yet I remain thankful, that the destination is Nashville, that it is in sight, and that God, and the pup, are constant companions {even though I don’t always lean into their presence as I should}.
Have you experienced the ironic loneliness of transition?
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