The Road Home

I find solace in music. I remember when I was little, I would sit under the piano bench in our house as my mom played the piano and sang and I was so comforted by this. Still, even today, when I'm having a rough go at it or just need a release of some sort, I will often turn to music. I came across this little ditty a while back as I was perusing the ole YouTube and it quickly became one of my go-to mechanisms to relax and realize everything will work out.




The lyrics of the song are:

Tell me, where is the road
I can call my own,
That I left, that I lost
So long ago?
All these years I have wandered,
Oh when will I know
There’s a way, there’s a road
That will lead me home?

After wind, after rain,
When the dark is done,
As I wake from a dream
In the gold of day,
Through the air there’s a calling
From far away,
There’s a voice I can hear
That will lead me home.

Rise up, follow me,
Come away, is the call,
With the love in your heart
As the only song;
There is no such beauty
As where you belong;
Rise up, follow me,
I will lead you home.

I love the part where it says, "There is no such beauty as where you belong." As I find myself at a crossroads, I am hoping to find that place where I know I belong. I have a sneaking suspicion that there is a certain someone, a voice if you will, that will say, "Rise up, follow me" and even though I may not know it at the time, it will be leading me home.

First post for the end...

So I finally succumbed and started a blog. It seems like an odd prospect to start something like a blog when my life feels like it is in flux...perhaps that's what led me to do this. I apologize in advance if this first post seems a bit scattered, but that's how I feel right now. Also, I apologize if my posts seem overly personal or reflective, but I've read a few blogs and I really enjoy when people write from the heart rather than with a worry of how they are perceived.

I booked a flight to Belgium a few days ago and I'll be leaving in January to intern with the U.S. Mission to NATO for a few months. I've never been to Western Europe and don't speak French, German, or Dutch...here's to hoping that knowing Russian will somehow come in handy!

Yesterday, I went to my last undergraduate class and it was weird, because, as I walked away and past other students hurrying to get to their classes or cars, it seemed like I was experiencing this rather historic end (at least for me) alone. I mean, none of the other students knew what was happening and as I became nostalgic and a bit glassy-eyed walking through campus one last time (well I do have those last few finals but those don't count), it felt like life at the U would go on without me or not.

For those of you who don't know, I have been working for Senator Bennett the last 3 years and he happened to give his farewell speech yesterday as I was finishing up class. In an exit interview with PBS, Senator Bennett said, "I want to make it clear that the cemeteries are filled with the graves of irreplaceable people." I don't think that Senator Bennett is saying that his accomplishments or anyone else's for that matter are not worthwhile, but that sometimes we get so caught up in ourselves that we somehow think we are greater and more important than we really are. I've certainly found that to be the case. Life goes on. People move on. The world keeps turning

Does that make it any easier? For me, no. In fact, I think that's what makes it all that much harder. I don't really enjoy endings in life and these last few weeks have been full of them...the end of my schooling, the end of my current living arrangements, the end of my job, the end of the year...

Yet, I would be remiss if I didn't throw out a cyber thanks to the irreplaceable people in my life. I'm not going to mention names, but I think you know who you are. Yes we are moving on. Yes we may move in different directions. Yes life most certainly will take unexpected twists and turns. And yes, I will remember you my friends. Despite the fact we may all soon be forgotten, I want you to know, "That all this nothing has meant more to me than so many somethings."

Thanks.