Today was my last full day in the Cove before I head off to Philadelphia and fly home. I’ve only been here for about fifty days, but I almost feel like I grew up here. I feel like I was raised in the Stern household with seven siblings, with Grandma and Pap hardly a stone’s throw away and with a plethora of cousins and church friends and people in my life who are living with abandon for Jesus. There are times when I can almost believe that the girl who grew up in rural southeastern Washington is someone else entirely.
But she’s not. I know that when my flight lands in Portland, I’ll wake up from this two-month dream, and though I may feel disoriented at first, I will remember exactly who I am. I’m Hallie, the middle child of five who spent the first eighteen and a half years of her life on ninety-two acres of beef cattle pastures and hayfields in the Pacific Northwest, under the shadow of Mt. Adams. I’m Hallie, the adventurous one—the one with a tendency toward wanderlust, but who will always come home in the end. I’m still the one who gets too attached, who never forgets, who hates goodbyes, and who is quick to get lost in the world of her own thoughts.
God has been ridiculously good to me. Just the fact that I get to spend the rest of my life (and beyond!) with Him makes me so unbelievably excited.
Sometimes we will die and sometimes we will fly away
Either way You're by my side until my dying days
And if I'm not there and I'm far away
I said, “Don't be afraid.”
I said, “Don't be afraid.”
We're going home.
“Taxi Cab”
twenty | one | pilots
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