memories

It's funny how memories can be comforting and yet painful at the same time.

I was going through some old documents I have on my computer from when I was in Charlotte. I came across some addresses of the kids at the Club and Savanna Woods. It made me sad. I miss those kids. I wonder if they're okay.
I was thinking about some of the moms and how they welcomed me into their homes. I was thinking about the summer afternoons I would spend sitting on their porches just talking and praying with them.
I loved how small victories were when they would trust us enough to ask for help, or attend a resident meeting and want to make their neighborhood a better place, or when their child got an A.
Man, those were good times.

And now I am faced with the decision to make more good times. Sometimes I feel like the littlest hobo and how all he ever did was go around and do what he could in a town and move on to the next. Or Mary Poppins, that's what she did too.

Sometimes I like to move. After all, that's what I grew up with. I'm used to change and meeting new people, getting to know new places.
Sometimes I like to stay where I am, with familiar things and familiar people. I like to see progress and be driven by our success and our failure.

In a perfect world, everything I love would be right where I am. Family, friends, and strangers.