Since two Fridays ago, I have driven over 33 hours, stopped in two hotels by myself, visited the west and the east ends of Tennessee, found out my cat was sick, and moved in to a new place.
Right now, I’m sitting on the floor in my new room, watching my kitty cat, every so often checking to see that her chest keeps moving up and down. My stuff lies around me in piles, and I’m overwhelmed by how much I still have, even though I had tried so hard to get rid of what I didn’t need. After spending two months with only what I could fit in my car with all my dad’s belongings, all this stuff I have now just seems…extra.
I’m lonely. My body aches. And I start school on Thursday. Between now and then I need to see a man about a job, make sure my kitty is okay, go get some more of my stuff, and actually remember to go to shcool, because it’s kind of one of the last things on my mind at the moment.
I miss my friends in Tennessee. It was weird this morning to wake up and drink my coffee without them. It’s weird waking up and not hearing the ramblings of a four-year-old and an eighteen-month-old. I’ve called my dad so many times because it’s weird not being able to go into the next room and find him there.
Even so, I’ve been blown away and moved to tears by the generosity and compassion shown to me by friends and strangers alike.
I’ve had lots of beautiful, deep thoughts while driving, but I forget it all when I’ve finally gotten to my destination.
I’ve been thinking a lot about my mom. About how it’s been nine years since she died, and I’m still not sure I’m over it. About how odd it is that my cat seems to be wrestling with the similar struggle my mom faced to hold on to life. About the day my mom brought me home when I was eleven to see a black kitten sitting on our couch, and about how that kitty has stayed with me through two cross-country moves, seven new houses, and my mom’s passing. And now I’m not sure how much longer she has.
But I’ve also been thinking about my God and how good, perfect, and sovereign He is.
I’ve been thinking about altitude-sickness, about the fact that it can hit you when you go up into the mountains, but also when you come down into the valley. I’ve been thinking about droughts and famines, and promises and inheritance. Miracles.
It’s wet here, in Maryland. There’s thunder rolling through the sky. The rain is here.