This living in between, coupled with growing frustrations over situations which I will not discuss because a) that would be catty and passive-aggressive, b) it's unhealthy to complain too much, and c) it's not about any friends or family or anyone who is likely to read this, has occasionally left me feeling lonely, even when I've been surrounded by kind people who care about me, because where am I? And, of course, I was completely unable to explain it because it was, as most of my emotional states tend to be, completely and impressively nonverbal. But then, the love of God was at the bottom of a kudzu-covered hill.
The drive from Starkville to Leland is about as straight a shot as you could ask for. From Starkville to Winona is mostly straight, mostly flat, and mostly among tall pine trees that are probably being grown for their timber rather than their treeness. Then, after Winona, there are hills. Horrible, up-and-down-and-around-the-corner hills, with Caution: Intersection signs at the top of each. Every time I drive these hills I have ridiculous fantasies of people who do not believe in stop signs. Please may I never live in hill country unless it's pretty and mountainous enough to be worth it. Around and up and around and down and up and down and up, and then, at last, around and down a more gentle hill covered in kudzu, and at the bottom, the flat open spaces of the Mississippi Delta (not to be confused with the Mississippi River delta). I've driven this route enough to know generally where I am and how far I've come, and as I came down the kudzu hill last weekend I was suddenly struck with, not a feeling, but the reality that I was close to home. And it was not home in the sense of location or house or stuff, but in the sense of belonging and purpose and yes. It's not that I thought God was wrong, or that I thought Chris and I had missed His purpose, or that I didn't want to go. I just needed Him to come and settle me. And He is.
