It's the first day of December, and I sit here wearing a comfy sweater with hot coffee warming my hands.
Winter and Christmas songs play in the background and soothe me while I write.
"The branches have traded their leaves for white sleeves...
All warm blooded creatures make ghosts as they breathe....
Welcome, December, with tireless hope."
I just want to take a minute to say that I love home. I love being in Michigan and being surrounded with family. I love feeling at peace while I sit next to the wood burning stove, breathing deeply as I walk around outside, and falling asleep on the couch watching movies every night.
This is home.
But this place is not mine anymore. I have grown, I have married and left, trying to connect and build a a life in a different state with different people, different places and different feelings.
It's a very strange feeling, belonging so greatly in one place but also knowing that God has you somewhere else for a time. A time that is not defined, and for a reason that is ever-changing. It is a heart-torn feeling that I can never explain perfectly, but one that I hope never goes away.
Belonging somewhere.
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