The end of things is always hard – the goodbyes and the packing and the grieving of what was known while moving towards what is not. I’ve never been very good at stepping into what I know to be the end, and this time feels especially tricky. In one week, our family will say goodbye to the life we’ve created here. What a thing to wrap my brain around. The simple explanation is that we can no longer afford to call Austin home. The more complicated explanation is that life is surprising and that in all of the ways that matter the most, we are feeling as though this season is coming to a close. We aren’t quite sure yet where we will land next and instead we will be roaming around for a while, staying in the spaces of the most generous of family and friends while we continue to hunt for a new home. And so for the next few days, it’s packing and boxes and cleaning and very bare walls. While my head is jammed with a long list of tasks to get done, my heart is struggling to catch up. It’s hard to say goodbye to a place that has borne witness to you becoming who you are.

In a serendipitous act of symmetry, it was ten years ago, on a very hot July day not unlike this one, that I first I drove into Austin. I arrived with a truck full of hand-me-down furniture and not much else, desperate to find any and all of the things that I could feel excited about. I lucked into the kindest roommate in a wonderful little south Austin house on Craigslist (hi Jeffrey!) and Marlo and I squeezed right in, grateful for new rhythms and new possibilities. I didn’t know how long we would stay, but I knew it was the next right thing, and that seemed to be enough. Turns out, it was. 

The other day, Rob and I were reflecting on our time here and he casually asked if Austin was the place wherein I’d spent the longest amount of time. Somewhat surprisingly, I realized that yes, I’ve been here longer than any other place in my life. While my roots are in Nebraska, Austin, and Texas in general, have infiltrated my soul in very significant ways. It’s here that I took on my first real adult job with the loveliest of coworkers and the most gratifying of work. It’s here that I met  a very cute Rob and married him. It’s here that I birthed two squishy little boys and rocked them to sleep. It’s here that I endured a global pandemic, survived wild winter storms, and shivered through prolonged power outages. And it’s also here that I’ve lived in all of the very ordinary ways, taking hundreds of sweaty walks, eating all of the tacos, and laughing with some of my very favorite people. I found the light here. Say what you will about all of the ways in which the city of Austin has lost itself - it has still been the sweetest of friends to me in a season when I desperately needed joy. No matter how it evolves, this city has gifted me with people and depth and experiences and this sweet little family of my own making, and there is such profound gratitude in knowing all of it began here. Austin helped bring me back to myself, and I’m so very thankful.

So, onward I go. Onward we go – to the next right thing, whatever that may be. Regardless of where we land, if I’ve learned anything, it’s that life usually provides you with enough good stuff to help you get through the more complicated, difficult stuff. So we keep praying, working, seeking, laughing – trusting that the good stuff will pave the path in all the ways we need. I’ll leave Austin the same way I came in — with a truck full of things — but this time I’m feeling a little bit wiser and a whole lot richer. My body may be tired, but my soul is full. We are headed out to continue to find the good, and this Austin-shaped cleft in my heart will forever by the sweetest of souvenirs.