The Land

Maybe it's because I grew up looking at farms, or maybe it's because I've called so many different kinds of land home, or maybe it's because of something in me that I haven't understood yet, but the more I see this place, the more I love this place. Even though we haven't met many people, even though we haven't found a church, even though I don't have a job, even though I spend my days weighing productivity versus rest. Being among mountains makes my soul rise up and elevate into the higher places, but being here makes my soul wistful, wild, and wide because this place feels wistful, wild and wide. I feel melancholy, but not sad. I have solitude, but not loneliness. I ache, but it is an ache of joy. And the wind blows. And the flat of the land stretches away to meet the lip of the sky and never arrives. And the people are poor and unhappy. And the  economy is devastated. And there is racism. And there is fear. And there is a God Who is bigger, bigger, bigger. And my soul expands.