A Parcel of Peace

What an odd position to find myself. Paying homage to a place I didn’t want to live.  

It seemed there was more at stake than I could bear to lose: our family home and everyday life with people we love the most. I didn’t know how I’d survive, especially with no end in sight. 

Yet, here I sit, straining out words, then deleting words, in angst, trying to describe the unforeseen gifts Columbia, South Carolina gave us. 

The people, of course, are our greatest gain, the main characters in our story. They’ll forever live close by in our memories.  

The long neighborhood trail afforded me a decent workout with its sand hills, and in the span of years I’ve met a lot of folks. 

Sharply aware that I’d pad along the path only a few more times, I hoped I’d see familiar faces on my recent walk.  

Most walking neighbors I don’t know by name, but I know them. 

Around the bend, 200 feet away, was a lady easy to spot because of her side to side sway. I prayed for her during the pandemic. I’m glad she gets out on the path even with her hip problem. She always looks fresh in cropped pants and printed cotton shirt. We smile and say hi. 

There’s the tall, lean woman with long widely swinging arms, I notice by her gait. 

The lovely dark-skinned woman, with a gorgeous accent. We’ve chatted several times. Her smile melts me. Today she spotted me first and waved. I’m happy people recognize me, too. 

A few days ago, my friend Whitney knocked on our door when I was barely awake. I gulped my coffee, hoping to be alert for the rich conversation we’d surely have along our walk. It was nice to get outside before the heat hit. We met haphazardly when I bumped into her on the walking path a couple of years ago. God’s providence amazes me. I’ll miss her a lot. The Wonder of a New Friend

A parcel of peace… that’s what popped into my mind the other day as I walked. Columbia has been a specially designed season from God. A place to grow. A place to learn to love deeply. 

Life won’t be the same when I’m apart from Debbie and Debbie; my favorite neighbors. Our stories, laughter, and impromptu get-togethers will be sorely missed.  

Our small group Bible study met for many Tuesday nights. We helped each other with moves and prayed when someone was sick. There is a void in our lives, our home, and our schedule now. We’ll always feel close to them. 

The low gentle rumble of the mail truck, a lake-boat with its raring motor in the distance, and a basketball thud on concrete followed by the jarring sound of vibrating rim. Almost…

The loud and crazy squirrel- gymnasts. Invited bird-guests tweeting around the feeders. The start-up of a delivery truck on the next street. A whirring jet flying over to greet its pilot’s children below. 

Creaking branches, falling pine cones, leaves rustling in the breeze, a gentle rain coming in slowly. 

The soundtrack to eight years of my life. 

Nowadays, the inconsequential elements seem consequential. Does anyone notice these minute details of life? They are page-turners. Their familiar cadence marks and counts my days. None of these last. Soon, we’ll be leaving our home and returning to the city, Wilmington, North Carolina, we never wanted to leave. 

When we moved to Columbia, my body, mind, and emotions dragged as if to leave 200 miles of skid marks. 

Saying yes to God’s plan isn’t always easy, but it’s always right. We chose to leave Wilmington, certain we’d heard God’s plan. Tom’s job turned out to be the most fulfilling he’d ever had and it would lead him into retirement. 

Tom worked long days while I said yes to each invitation, including putting my organizing skills to use by contracting with a corporate relocation company. I wanted to find my place in our new city. My love for writing grew as I joined a beautiful writing community: Word Weavers.   

Which supper on the porch will be our last? 

What friend will be the last to cross our threshold? 

Is it weird to miss people I’ve barely met? It’s happened over and over. That I’ll never see them again seems wrong. 

If anything has taught me how similar we humans are, regardless of race or background, it’s the lovely strangers I’ve met. This may be my biggest lesson of all.  

In the grocery store, I struck up a lengthy chat with a retired NYC police officer. I shucked corn into a big bin as he evaluated the ears. I wished I’d met him earlier. I could’ve listened to his stories for hours. Just the day before, he’d saved a man’s life by pulling him from a train track. “We were used to all that stuff up in New York. I worked at Ground Zero. My partner committed suicide.” He told me he’d just survived a serious heart attack. I was glad he lived. I shucked too many ears of corn, as if I needed a reason to keep talking. I didn’t want our conversation to end. 

Soon we’ll pack furniture on a truck, and return the way we came. We didn’t just bide our time in Columbia until we could move back. We embraced it as home. We plugged into church and community and found family we didn’t know we had. 

I wonder what riches and depths of experience we’ve missed by saying no to God’s nudges. 

As we walk closely with God, He guides our common sense decisions. We make choices based on what we believe will make us happy. While this process usually works, sometimes God’s leading opposes my surface desires. We must know that surrender to God is the path to fulfillment of our purpose. When we say yes to Him we have a sense of peace. 

We only see in part and we don’t know what is best for us. Sometimes the hardest things are the avenues to depth and growth in our lives. 

A parcel of peace—the reward for following His lead even if it isn’t what we want. 

Do you hear His voice today? Will you say yes to His call? 

I hope I won’t shy away from saying yes.