The day was a good one.
I woke up this morning with the first thought in my mind: Good morning, Holy Spirit. We hiked Cascade Head and Dad made it all the way, when two days ago he was in bed with a back spasm. Thank you Jesus for healing him. We fished off of the rock cliffs at Dad's secret spot. We threw a couple crab traps off the pier in Newport, and caught a whopping six crabs. We had clam chowder and a beer at Rogue. We drove home with bluegrass music playing in the car, talking about the future and dreams and memories.
I started to think about how these past few years have been tumultuous, to say the least. I have been in and out of home, here and then gone, ragingly independent and then necessarily dependent when I couldn't last anymore. I have lived in over five countries and stayed in one place no longer than six months. It's been lonelier than I'd care to admit.
I am no longer ashamed to admit that I need family. I need the stability that it brings. I can't do it on my own. I can't achieve my dreams on my own, and even if I did, it wouldn't be worth it unless I have people who helped share in my victory. It's not a shameful feeling, but one of relief:
I can need other people.
I need family, whatever form that looks like.
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