I left Nashville four weeks ago today. And my transition for the most part has been surprisingly smooth.

That doesn’t mean that I don’t have mornings, like this one, where I wake up aching to turn the clock back four weeks and relish in a place that I know and that I feel known.

That is the hardest part about moving…the constant uncertainty. That everything, and I mean everything, is new.

Don’t get me wrong, I love exploring. I love meeting new people. And I love an adventure.

But there are days when I just want to know the fastest way to get from point A to point B. There are days when I just want to be able to stroll into church on Sunday morning and see more friends than strangers. There are days when I just want to savor old routines instead of going through the hassle of establishing new ones. And mostly there are days, when I just want to know and be known.

Have you moved? What did you think was the hardest part?

It’s Tuesday night. If you follow me on twitter, you probably know that Tuesdays are one of the highlights of my week. Because Tuesdays mean Mexican food with the Franklin “Campus.” And so Tuesdays mean good food and drink with a heaping side of a great conversation with some of most life-giving people I know.

That’s why I was surprised to find myself crying. All the way home.

It wasn’t anything anyone did or said. And it wasn’t anything anyone didn’t do or didn’t say. Really, it wasn’t.

It was me. Or the lack of me. That had me in tears.

My easy affection and dependable laughter stolen and replaced with all I could muster…forced smiles and stiffled answers.

And I realized, I miss me.

For the last month or so, I have felt like a shell of myself, going through the motions, doing my best to get through the day, putting one front in front of the other.

So maybe its natural that on nights, like tonight, I might miss me.

I can’t help but wonder if others miss me too?

I can’t help but wonder if I will find myself again soon?

I can’t help but wonder if the me that is found will at all resemble the me that has gone missing?

And I can’t help but wonder have you ever missed you before?

Couldn’t sleep so I thought I’d write a post for Peter Pollock’s blog carnival. Today the theme is “grief.”

Ouch!

Admittedly, I am no expert on grief.

Sure, I know grief. I’ve lost my fair share of dogs, grandparents, and friends. I’ve had my heart broken by a boy. But, I don’t know GRIEF. I’ve never lost parents, children, siblings, or best friends. I’ve never had my heart broken by a husband. (more…)