schenectady (noun) - a city in northeast New York, from the Iroquois "Schau-naugh-ta-da", meaning, the place beyond the pines; also, that time we lived in the sloping mountians and my heart finally said, "this is a home, too".

From this:

 And this:

To this:

 

And this.

And this.

And all of these, 

             and then some.

From one of the hardest, rockiest seasons of my life to this rich, dancing, golden one.

In two years.

The faithfulness of God truly amazes me.

Looking back over the past two years, I feel guilty that I wasn’t happier. On the surface, it should have been easy: we were newlyweds, just starting out on life together! It should have been an adventure. 

It shouldn’t have been so hard to find a people, and a place, to belong, because we were together.

I shouldn’t have been crying every day.
 

 Right?




But we sure did learn fast how much we needed one another. How to build each other up, to
make each other more than we’d been before, and more than we could ever be by ourselves.

And, well, I don’t want to say that people experience bad things so that they can better appreciate the good things, because that seems shallow and overused and not at all comforting.

But usually, the most cliché things are the most true.

And how incredible it is to have joy come so easily again!

My heart is so full, so achingly thankful, for all that I have grown to love in the past two years- and “grown” really is the only word for it- that I want to laugh and cry all at the same time.

Bit by bit, this place and these people have wrapped strong cords around my heart that tie
a piece of me here, to New York. They’re just like the ones that bind me to Michigan, and to
Wisconsin, and I’ve grown enough now to recognize what they are.

Ties of home.

And I am so, so thankful that God has given me the gift of this place, at this time, as home.

Schenectady

It is a difficult thing,
to start over.
to hollow out the ending enough
to leave room for another beginning.

there is nothing , at first:
an empty space,
the corner of a room just emptied.
the first place the patient spiders come to
and the last place they leave.

You must clear away the cobwebs
the old musts,
and let them to spin new strands
clear ones that will not choke on sunlight

They will cut you
those webs
when you tear them loose again
when you start over and over and over

but it will be your prayer
your amen
your privilege to string around your heart
and hollow out the ending-
a gift for the next beginning.