In the time we lived in Alabama, this little place came to feel like ours. We ate dinner there several times a week, we played ball, we chased geese, we walked and ran the trails hundreds of times. Anabelle climbed on those statues so regularly I think she thought they were hers. It's where I developed my love for hydrangeas. It's where I went to feel grounded and think. Naturally, it was one of the places I was most excited to visit during our stay. The first time I went back I went alone on a Sunday morning and walked for several hours. It was like coming home. I was transported back a few years. I thought about a time when we had fewer kids, shaky employment, a sick baby, and a lot of stress. We also had the very best ward I've ever known wrap us up and walk us through it. Those same friends were the reason we wanted so much to return for a visit. And I truly doubt that those relationships would have the depth that they do, had it not been for our many struggles and all the kindness we received. I walked those still familiar paths thinking about the duality of that time. I'm glad to be in a better place in so many ways than we were then. But there was a tenderness to our lives then. A sincerity in relationships with people. I think it is born of sorrow, and when someone helps you carry that sorrow it forges an especially beautiful bond. This time of reflection reminded me of our tender mercies-the ones from that period of our lives and the current blessings we now enjoy. I think I can never walk among those tall tall trees and not feel wonderfully small. For all of the brain work and soul searching done on those paths I think of it as a sacred space.
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