Moved.

On another December day, 5 years ago, my Trevor and I drove away from my childhood home. Our little blue car was packed to the gills, and my sisters and I were crying. We were moving from Alabama to the central coast of California , to follow a few dreams and how we felt God leading. A hearty houseplant shoot sat on the car’s dash, with bare roots in a plastic bag. It was a clipping from my mom’s plants. Soon after we settled in California, we found out we would be parents. The changes were exhilarating and terrifying. I missed my family every day, and fell much, much deeper in love with my own growing family. We gained so many friends-like-family in California. We renewed friendship with Trevor’s family: many new, now so dear, to me. We grew with that stretching that parenthood offers. We grew more in love with God, the Giver of all good things.

Today, I drove back into my parents’ driveway, in a little blue car, again. My little travel companions have part of my Trevor’s DNA. My mom sits beside me, for support and companionship and humor. We’re crying again. A thriving potted plant is nestled on the dash - having survived that initial journey 5 years ago, accidental baby Caleb pruning, and gross neglect last fall. We have completed these thousands of miles again. In reverse. Or so it feels somewhat. I’m not “going backwards,” just back in an old place. Here for support and love and connection and I’m not quite sure what else yet. It feels right, and sad, and weird, and good all at once. We are here.