Ain’t no mountain high enough

Unlike Texas, our time here seemed to drag.  I think it mostly had to do with my emotional state, but nonetheless, March took awhile to get here.  Despite it being a beautiful area with good food and kind people, I’m not sad to leave it like I was with Texas.  It could have been the weather or the fact that it was winter or the realization that I was very, very far from friends and family.  Or maybe it was all those reasons.  The point is, it’s been hard.

But….

Just because situations are hard doesn’t mean you can’t learn a thing or two.  Our Texas time was a period of growth and grace.  I think about Dallas and I smile, because it was such a fond memory for me.  Seattle was a different kind of adventure.  One where I reminded myself frequently that patience is a virtue.  Both experiences were good and rewarding, albeit vastly different.

I faced mental, physical, spiritual, and emotional challenges that I didn’t expect.  And now, I look back at this mountain of a journey and smile for a different reason.  Because even though I huffed and puffed my way up this hill, I still made it to the top.  I cried and complained, but I made it alive.

Dallas makes me smile with delight, and Seattle makes me grin with pride.  Both are very different experiences and very different places.  But both are very, very useful in changing me to be a little bit more complete.  Dallas taught me that I could do more than I thought.  Seattle proved that I could.

In a few short days I will wave farewell to Seattle as our little caravan makes its way to the opposite side of the country once again, knowing that this time was not wasted.  It was hard and good, challenging and encouraging.  I know that I will not be able to look at a mountain the same way again.  This place is full of them, towering over people like they were ants; but then once it’s climbed, it’s conquered (at least for that time).

So, I’ll miss this place, because even dark, wintery times add substance to your life.  And because sometimes the most beautiful things come from a place of pain.  I found a little scraggly tree in the woods that was starting to bud.  It reminded me that even small scraggly plants endure harsh winters.  And that I did too.

Also, I now sing this song at the top of my lungs: Beautiful Things by Gungor