A few days ago I wrote about the long, cold winter our family has endured.
This week new life has erupted.
Daffodils are budding, and the early ones are dancing in the breeze.
This beautiful passage from the second chapter of the Song of Solomon
speaks for us:
“Arise, my love, my fair one,
and come away;
11 for now the winter is past,
the rain is over and gone.
12 The flowers appear on the earth;
the time of singing has come,
and the voice of the turtledove
is heard in our land.
Stuart and I are hearing the voice of the turtledove
in two places — the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia where he was born
(where we have now lived for a decade)
and Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, where I was born.
In January we visited the place, Warwick Woodlands, on the campus of Moravian Manor, that called us to move.
In February we made the commitment, and now
I am going home.
Eight times in my life my permanent state address changed.
Eleven times I moved addresses in the same place.
Six times we left our permanent address for lengthy visits
(sabbaticals, study abroad, granny nanny adventures)
in other places.
I don’t expect to move again.
I expect to plant myself here.
I am going home.
But first, theres so much to do in
the Shenandoah Valley!
Packing and sorting, selling and giving away, arranging, coordinating.
Grieving the going and the sweet friends left behind.
When I was eleven years old my family moved from Manheim to Lititz, PA.
A distance of seven miles.
My classmates threw a party and sang the classic parting song —Red River Valley —
Stevie Nicks sings it country style here.
When we go home, we are also leaving home.
What valleys have you left, literal or metaphorical, in your life?
Where are you heading now? Have any advice to offer those of us in transition?