~Title Page~

We have company over tonight—missionaries that went to seminary with my parents. Of course, with company (and especially with people who are old friends), there is conversation and catching up. During this catching up, the topic of our move and transition has been discussed in length. For me, this brings up so many memories—so many lessons I have learned. So I felt this urge to write something I have never completely shared publically—our move. From beginning to end. Not that many people will care, and not that many people will want to or will read this. But I want to. For me. I want to write it all out. See it. Share it. So I decided to write this…

Thinking over it, I realized that this coming Monday, June 2, 2014, is the 6^th anniversary of the day we left my home in Davis, West Virginia and traveled south to Chattanooga, Tennessee. So I suppose this is an appropriate time to share these things. I am aware, however, of the danger of this. I want to be honest with this story. Honest about how I felt. Honest about what happened. I want people who read this to be aware that whatever happened—whatever I felt—is past. People hurt me. I hurt people. I’m not going to hide that. So if something negative is said about anyone, it is not because I am bitter towards anyone. Believe me, that is over. I am sharing my side of the story. If life has taught me anything, it’s that you rarely ever (if ever) know—really know—what’s going on on the other side of a story. How I felt about things were not always (and rarely were, most likely) accurate. Honestly, some of the people who hurt me most are now very dear to me. So please, don’t think I harbor any ill feelings towards people. Any feelings that aren’t so great are my fault—stem from my pride and selfishness. But I can say with very good certainty that, if you’re reading this, I hold nothing against you.

This will probably be a pretty long story, so I’m going to separate it into parts; I’m not going to dump the whole story on you at once. In fact, this is just an introduction. The title page, if you will. I don’t actually know how many parts this will have, nor do I know when those parts will be posted. Hopefully by the end of this week? Certainly before I leave for camp in a couple of weeks. Any way, if you’re interested in hearing the story, be looking for my posts in the next few days. If not, by all means, ignore them. I’m doing this for myself more than anything. You don’t have to read it, of course. (I can’t imagine anyone who would feel like they would!)

So let me start this whole story with a verse: a verse that my mother shared with me during those first few months—a verse that I clung to during that time, but I did not always apply…

Ecclesiastes 7:8

“Better is the end of a thing than its beginning,

and the patient in spirit is better than the proud in spirit.”