This weekend marks a very bittersweet anniversary.  On this day a year ago, our apartment was totally boxed up and ready to load.  The girls were safely in Texas already, and Vann and I were saying our last goodbyes to the city that was our home and the birthplace of our family.  I will never, ever forget that feeling – a year from this coming Sunday I stood in our alley and kissed my hubby goodbye and watched he and his Dad drive away, two 16 foot trucks filled with our worldly possessions.  I said thank you to our motley crew of sweet men who came to help us, fighting to hold back the tears but ultimately losing it in front of them, causing lots of shuffling feet and sidehugs.  I sobbed as I made my way up the back porch into our empty apartment – this precious home where we walked through so much happiness and so much struggle.  I stayed back for the weekend to clean and hand in our keys. I just re-read this post about our old home and man, I am in tears once again.  A whole year has passed in the blink of an eye and yet it still feels like it happened just yesterday. I watched Oprah’s finale last night, and one thing she said really resonated with my heart: "I’ve talked to nearly 30,000 people on this show, and all 30,000 had one thing in common: They all wanted validation. If I could reach through this television and sit on your sofa or sit on a stool in your kitchen right now, I would tell you that every single person you will ever meet shares that common desire. They want to know: ‘Do you see me? Do you hear me? Does what I say mean anything to you?” I felt like God knocked me upside the head.  I’m laying in bed with Vann next to me asleep, and I’m crying, and in my mind I’m screaming, “Oh Thank the Lord it’s not just me!” A year ago one journey was ending and a new one was beginning.  We left the safe place, we knew the rules, we knew how to play the game, in Chicago. I admit, I don’t know how to play the game yet here in our new life.  But that doesn’t mean I won’t learn.  And I know that God is always here, waiting for me to be still…and listen.