(As a preface to the following randomness... I'm writing from Franciscan University, where I am beginning my college education. I wrote the following piece just after my family left for home.)

The wind in the pines; singing; crying. The ants on the concrete; going somewhere. The stone against my back...holding me here, where I stand, where I must stay...where I can only step onwards from, and not back.
And a part of my heart being ripped out of me. Like letting something of myself go away, leave me. And the rest of me left behind; a stranger to myself. In a strange land. Like a fish out of water.
It rained. For me. Every shower and dew, bless the Lord. Heaven crying its tears to fall with mine and wet and bless the broken ground that will cut my feet and make them stronger.
Broken feet will be hard to walk on. But every brokenness heals. And healing is better than wellness, in ways. Healing has seen the dark, and knows the glory of the sunrise. Sun and moon, bless the Lord.
Thank God for the ground that is not shaken.
Thank God for love—which crosses miles without effort, and cannot be outdistanced.
Thank God for broken feet…and the hope in the healing. Behold, I make all things new.
Thank God for sunrise.
Bless the Lord, all you works of the Lord. Praise and exalt him above all forever.