Place
As I embark on my odyssey to Texas, my home takes center stage in the forefront of my mind. This small sliver of God’s creation has buried its roots deep into my heart, and its essence echoes in my being.
My mother’s family has been in this county in Alabama for six generations. Much of me is in this place. Much of this place is in me.
This decision is wrought by the Lord’s mysterious providence, not by my imagination or from a demented view of the world that despises to live in any such place called “home”. This is the Lord’s doing, and I must submit and delight in it. That is contentment.
But this place will never be forgotten. The people, the lessons, the events, and the experiences. None of it will ever be forgotten. It mustn’t. It is only forgotten when the desire for your presence in it is lost, and that love of place becomes apathy within your heart.
The uniqueness of a place makes it so. It is a praise that there is geographic diversity on earth. Otherwise, what would be so special?
I appreciate the uniqueness of Alabama now and will do so even more when I am away. The ambience of the insects. The graceful flight of the butterfly from Zinnia to Zinnia. The diligence of the bee. The song of the mockingbird. The gnats congregating above the luscious wire grass. The shape of the crape myrtle. The colorful hues of the hydrangea. The oaks older than this country. The pure white cotton. The fragrance of the peanuts gliding through the fields. The hummingbirds in their dance. The woodpecker at his work. The dew on the doorknob in the early morning and the cool breeze in the afternoon. And the faintest drizzle to provide relief from the blanketing humidity. The peace of it all.
I grieve and mourn not for leaving but for the ingratitude I have given. Mourning for not experiencing the fullness of the people and the place. But I do not write without hope. My eternal aim is not for this county, but for the city that is greater than the South. Though it is a lovely foretaste, I long for the substance. I pray that the Lord would be gracious to our family in bringing us back to experience the fullness with gratitude that we would bless it and be blessed by it. If not here, may the Lord be most glorified in doing His will and with me submitting to it. I write about my place in this way with the same heart of the words as Wendell Berry: “When my writing hasn’t been in defense of precious things, it has been a giving of thanks for precious things.”