Why a Zip Code Means
Nothing
If anyone were to go through my blog posts from the past two
months, an obvious trend would be found. Since our move, I have not hidden the
fact that I miss our North Carolina home, the small-town feel, the quaint
street we lived on, and knowing that I had friends closely surrounding me.
Reminiscing about the times spent in that house, though happy, inflict a sense
of grief within my heart.
I’m here in this world and my family is with me. No matter
where my location might be, I am home on God’s beautiful earth. My family and friends
may be far away, but we share the same land. My current area may not be my
favorite, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t just as many magnificent qualities
as the last place. I have great memories of the past, but my mind does not remain
in the past. It is continuously with me, allowing me the opportunity to create
new memories wherever I go.
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| Growing up in NC |
Our new place doesn’t impose the same feelings of comfort
upon me, at least not yet. Our time here is still young, and I try my best to
take it for what it is. After all, all of those great things about our last
place occurred over the course of five years.
Today as I basked at the beauty of the ever-changing leaves,
pondering how these gorgeous trees are one more thing to add to the growing
list of favorites I have about our new place, I had an epiphany. I realized
that it really doesn’t matter where I live. In the grand scheme of things, my
zip code means nothing. What truly matters is that I’m somewhere on the map.
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| Source |
With this realization, my heart has found a little more peace. No
matter where my feet may step, I am already home.
Click here to view all posts in the 31 Days of Peace series.
Click here to read what others are writing about for 31 days.
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