this is not the end

Hello Lord,

maybe it is 

common to cry 

when you are going

home–it is not crying,

welling. Welling, as I listen 

to stare out the window & 

watch sun fall below my view,

as I go back into the dark unknown. 

Listening as You

tell me: I love you. You can be

sad. I’m not letting go, but you 

must know 
Fmf: common

I don’t know how to explain how I’m feeling right now, except I hurt. This is a poem about leaving Texas this week. From walking into Trisha’s house to hummus her niece Claudia made (so good). Being asked by Joshua to play Rummy and instead playing Go Fish, because I have no clue how to play rummy.  To Sam, who took every opportunity to stand or try to stand on my cane because you know, it’s fascinating. And having no power to say no because his eyes and smile are ๐Ÿ˜ and that curly hair. And how he held my walker for me when getting out the car. I seemed to leave my phone behind constantly, stayed up late rambling on (because my nerves turned into excitement and pumpkin spice latte was all: Julia, you ready to stay up?!) about life and Jesus.

This trip reminded me a lot about how love is patient & kind. How it will stay up late for/with you, how it will remind you it is okay to ask for help, nothing to be nervous about. How it remembers. How it listens. How it asks for your thoughts. How it laughs. How it yearns to comfort. Help. And you know, give you chocolate chip cookies and  pieces of left over Halloween candy. And popcorn. And kale salad (sooo gooood.)  

And how time slows down when you’re fully present & not panicked this is it, time is running out. It felt like an abundance was given when I stared at the sky or walked or laughed or listened.

It all felt so precious. So different than what I’m used to, which is sobbing because it’s over, this time because I said, I’m getting sad, God seemed to guard my heart and give subtle hints this wasn’t it. Still doesn’t take away that I miss Joshua and Sam playing tag in the morning. Or listening to Claudia break out in song. I never expected to fall in love with someone’s kids. Or for the most part feel more myself than the scared little girl who’s afraid to ask. It felt okay to laugh. It felt like I’ve been there before. Like I’ve been friends with Trisha way longer. And her husband, Michael’s bursts of laughter always took me aback.

I feel like it was a welcome and a linger. A homey feeling that still is lasting coming back into my unknown. But I do know Jesus’ love for me is keeping a firm gentle hold.


I didn’t expect to write all this, but Jesus knew since all my thoughts are ๐Ÿ˜ญ๐Ÿ˜ถ๐Ÿ˜ž๐Ÿ™ˆ๐Ÿ˜ฎ๐ŸŽ‰๐ŸŽ‰ helps me process. There’s more but need to let them simmer. I love Jesus so much for who he’s put in my life.

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8 thoughts on “this is not the end

  1. My friend, that sounds like a wonderful trip. I understand what it feels like to leave those feelings of “home” behind. Just remember there is always a new beginning at “the end.” Thank you for sharing your words this week.

    Hugs,
    Melinda (#78ย at FMF)

  2. Hi from FMF link up 75. I too am a big fan of balancing halloween candy with kale.Transitions are so hard, I’m so glad Jesus is constant even when everything else is swirling. The movement and change really spoke to me.

    • I think I tend to lean toward the candy more than the kale, but the salad was sooo good. It’s weird how the transition has been hard when I didn’t feel the panic as I typically do because the time was so short. I’m so glad Jesus holds me so close because I’ve been feeling very swirly. I’m glad it spoke to you. Thank you for visiting โ˜บ๏ธ

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