In between learning a town and a church.
In between between thoughts.
To end my last Youth Group at Cal Heights, the pastor and the youth laid hands on me, and four high school boys prayed aloud.
In between packing offices, and houses, unpacking storage units, and then packing all of that into a Hyundai Sonata, there was plenty left behind. Some of which I will miss. Some of which needed to stay in the past.
The timing of all this meant I left on my mom's birthday. It was a bitter sweet morning of waffles and good-byes.
Another farewell service, and more hands, and more prayers. And tears and laughter. I was sent from Cal Heights with blessings and resources, both physical and spiritual.
(And Doug don't think I didn't notice the prayers and hymns spoke of journey that morning. Thank you for that service.)
Then the drive began. The drive in between California and Florida.
From palm trees to desert to the home of friends. Late night reminiscence and news of a new pastorate. A morning of eggs, bacon, and theology.
Then onto the orange and blue that I have every only seen in New Mexico, along with a flash rainstorm, a rainbow at the check point, and the beginning of Texas.
From a Holiday Inn to a home. My home. The place that sheltered me for a year. The place where my family lives. Like actual blood relation family. That I like being around. I don't take that lightly.
I got to re-meet my nieces, both of whom give fantastic hugs and pick out the best books.
Breakfast and a coffee with colleagues. Each a reminder of how much I am loved.
More time with family, more hugs, and a breakfast.
Then back on the road.
Texas, Louisiana, Alabama, Florida, and a Holiday Inn.
From there to an office where I picked up keys and unpacked my car.
Still unpacking the boxes, but slowly the apartment is becoming a home.
A home.
I have called so many places a home.
Cities like Auburn.
Like Occidental.
Long Beach.
Chicago.
Houston.
and now Gainesville.
So many churches have been home.
EV Free.
Neighborhood.
Calvary.
Immanuel.
CCP.
CANVAS.
Kindred.
Cal Heights.
and now First UMC.
So many people have been home for me.
Greg and Meredith.
Sean and Becky.
Adam Kline.
Bret.
Adam and Sara.
My mom and dad.
And then just my mom.
Jeff, J.P., other Jeff, and the Breakfast Crew.
J.R., Julie, Joe, and the Underground.
Doug, Kathy, and Owen.
and now.
Now is the in-between. That isn't to say that I haven't been welcomed. That isn't to say I don't have some likely suspects. But people who become family, faces that become home, those take time.
To change your address is simple. It is done online.
To change a church is harder, but I have been very fortunate in that regard.
To change your family. Well, you don't do that. It just kinda happens.
You find yourself posing for pictures on an Easter morning, with people you aren't related to.
You find yourself asking what time we are leaving for the Super Bowl Party, before you even ask for a ride to the Super Bowl Party.
You find yourself at a Seder Meal with your board gaming group.
You find yourself at a coffee, where you assume the questions will revolve around your new responsibilities, and instead you find yourself being asked about your soul.
And honestly, you find your self.
Starting a new gig, in a new place it is easy to look back, to take stock. When you have been to so many places it is easy to think that maybe it is you and not them.
But, as I take stock, I remember each place, each person, each home. I see what I gave. I see what I gained. I am excited to take all of that and bring it to this new home. I am excited to see what I will gain here. I am excited to see what I will give here. I am excited to learn how I will grow.
I am excited to learn in what ways, this new place will become my new home.
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| My new home |
--Serving Him alongside all of you, just from further away,
--Jesse Letourneau
