When you wish upon a mountain, you just might miss the sunset.

VA landscape

John and I just enjoyed a whirlwind weekend visiting friends and family in VA. 🙂  As usual I came with my heart wide open and was cheerfully swept up in the magnetic pull of the East Coast, occupied by so many people I love.

I wish I could record and re-play the moment of holding my brand-new nephew Cade and happily crying as I prayed over him on the back porch of my childhood home. I wish I could keep all the kisses from my 80-years-young grandmother in my pocket and pull them out when I’m lonely or scared. I wish I lived closer to my adorable niece, Emma so I could run with her and march with her and chase after her with a broom while laughing at her silly screams of delight. I wish I could babysit the kiddos that were born to dear friends, and be a familiar face instead of a passing traveler. I wish I could bottle up the warm welcome we received at our old church home on Sunday morning. I wish I could squeeze their hands again and invite them over for lunch. I wish I could have danced the night away at a beautiful wedding reception instead of driving the night away to another hotel. I wish I could step outside and smell the sweet summer rain that wakes up the soil on the mountains and rinses off the patient hills. I wish TX wasn’t so far away from VA.

But, as my mom so matter-of-factly states, “If wishes were horses, beggars would ride!”

The reality is, that’s not my reality. And you know what? That’s OK. A part of me will always be tied to the hills of VA but there is another part of me that is being shaped and influenced by the sweeping plains of TX. The part of me that had to put on my “big girl” pants and get a full-time job, that has to commute to that full-time job, that pulled out the crockpot and put away the cereal box because “Man cannot live on Fruity Cheerios alone!” It’s a newer part of me and one that I’m just starting to get comfortable in. I’m sure that once I get comfortable, something else will change and another part of me will stretch unused muscles and make new mistakes. That’s just growing up, I guess.

When I think about leaving the sweet friends who have made the Lonestar state not-so-lonely for us, I just wanna punch a wall. I don’t like knowing that when John graduates, we’ll have to say goodbye (AGAIN) to people we wish we could live next-door to, share Saturday mornings with, and lean on when life throws a mean curveball. Yet I know that there are some friendships that don’t give a rip how many miles apart you are because as far as they’re concerned, you’re stuck with them for life.

And if there’s anything I’ve learned each time my heartstrings are yanked in a hundred different directions, it’s this:

Wherever you are, it’s worth the pain and the risk to love people back.

It’s so good to visit the house I grew up in, the friends I went to school with, and the family I treasure. But it’s also good to be home again, enjoying the panoramic sunsets and delightful friendships we could have only found deep in the heart of Texas.

TX sunset at WRL


4 thoughts on “When you wish upon a mountain, you just might miss the sunset.

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