It was something like the great American caravan… a convoy of sorts.
In the lead was a maroon Jeep Wrangler. I sat side saddle to my younger nephew Matthew, who at 16 was probably a better driver than even I. Behind us lumbering on the horizon was a large moving truck, 24 feet and filled to overflowing with all of my worldly possessions save the clothes on my back. This hulking truck had been packed with love by parents, aunt and her children, and myself over a 2-day frenzy in the sweltering heat of a Dallas July. Bringing up the rear was my aunt in a large family van, the kind families now pass up for minivans.
As the daylight slowly slipped below the interstate behind me I looked in the rearview mirror one last time, in it I watched the sun set on my time in Texas. We crossed the state line just after dusk.
Birmingham or Bust.
Six weary travelers, tired from a long weekend of stress, packing, and goodbyes, were glad to be on their way and leaving Texas safely in the dust behind them. Though I was glad to finally be leaving I left a part of myself there that day… a part of myself that I doubt I shall ever see again and will only remain in the cavernous recesses of my own memory (and this blog).
Through cover of darkness we traveled through the bright lights of Lousiana, the deep backwoods of Mississippi, and eventually into the mountains of Alabama. Through the night we traveled, running a race against time that Saturday evening… myself racing toward my first day on a new job… my family headed home to Indiana to their own lives and work.
We arrived in Birmingham at about 3:00am on Sunday, August 1, 2004. For me, it was the end of the road, and yet, the beginning of another. Hugs and kisses abounded as we said our goodbyes. Tears flowed. Emotions ran high. It was an experience for all of us… the end of a road I’d traveled with my family for almost a year. It had been a tough ride for all of us. But here it ended and I went my way and they theirs.
On that humid Sunday morning, it was difficult watching them drive away. Little did I know what lay in store, so much more than mildest imaginateion ever could have believed. But on some level, I’m sure, I was aware that it was a new chapter for me, that things changed that day. Sometimes we look back and recognize days of great personal change that come unannounced. Other times we are afforded the gift of seeing those days unfold minute-by-minute, full well knowing of their impact from the outset.
That day, one year ago tonight, as the calender page flipped from July to August… I also turned a page in my life. Today I celebrate the strength of my family, the faith of those whom believed in me, and the divine providence of a God that knew the path all along.
Psalm 31:15b - “My times are in Your Hands”
dude, seriously, do you need more work? Cause I can find some for you.
Or is redesigning your website just that much fun? :)
and you used our class verse – rock on!
I remember when you arrived, even to me, it was like a journey long closed. A few months earlier, when I had first met your unemployed self, I would have never thought you would be at Mountaintop… my church. Of all the places and the megachurches you could have gone to, you came to Mountaintop. The first time you came to visit was a lot of fun, and haha I still laugh about the video of Mikey and Mitch crossdressed that we shot, and that first time at Moes, and of course, hearing Sean Fennelly tell dumb stories. Yes, those were great times. And now, here, over a year later, not only have you stayed a Sunday Moes tradition, but your dating my old youth leader too (Im telling you, I told her Id be the one to find her someone – I dont think she ever believed me, but I dont lie about things like that. I just kinda knew Id be the one to do that. And I sorta was, wasnt I… haha.) Anyways, I guess Im just really thankful that your here, and that your my friend.
The end.