I have a beautiful new journal, the purpose of which is to write down the process of packing, planning for a move, and leaving the place I have called home since the 6th grade. Today is July 1, 2020. Andrew and I will be leaving Atlanta in 38 days.

Today, I made phone calls to my church people, I did some work, ate some lunch, did some work, had some dinner. In a minute I’ll do my daily yoga. Right now, I’m sitting on the balcony, among the plants, enjoying our home. Home in Atlanta has been so many things for me, which I will explore later. For now, home is where Andrew and I are.

We are transient floaters in a realm of paradox: unknown and yet known; much like the Kin-dom of God, of which we are avid seekers, which is here and not yet here; we are home, but not yet home. This in-between space is where I want to be, really BE for the next 38 days.

To ponder what Atlanta has meant to me; to reflect on the memories, friendships, events that have brought me here, to my balcony amidst the plants: some that nurture eyes and soul, others a feast for the taste buds and nourishment for the body.

My life in Atlanta, and the multi-sensory feast it has been for my soul will soon not be such a big part of who I am. I refuse to let this time slip me by unnoticed; undocumented, un-memorialized.

For Atlanta and all that it has held for me, shaped in me, meant to me; deepest thanks to God abound.

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