This is my first home.  I moved here in December of 2007, barely 22 years old.  I remember walking in the first time, scoping out the place: ten foot ceilings, crown molding to swoon over, hardwood floors that had witnessed years of activity.  I was in awe; my jaw dropped.  The sunroom had red tile and light cascaded in from three window-laden sides.  Of course, I'll take it. 

It's been five years and tonight all I can think to say is:

I grew up here.

These walls have burst open with joy.  They have silently held strong under pain.  They witnessed birthdays and baptisms and engagement parties.  There have been lavish dinners and lots of cereal.  Graduate school study sessions and church prayer meetings.  This is where I got picked up for my first date and where I had my first "define the relationship" conversation.  It's where I first heard my grandmother was sick and where I held my friend who was heartbroken.  This living room has seen miraculous reconciliation and gut-wrenching misunderstanding.  It has also been home to an ever-growing library.     

I lived with Brittany, who taught me how to be steadfast and love the nations relentlessly.  I lived with Maryam, who taught me the beauty of Iran and the sweetness of crossing cultures.  I lived with Karen, who taught me to look beneath the surface and face the truth.  I lived with myself and I learned to be still.

This is a special place.  When I think of all the prayers that have been prayed, the hopes voiced, the disappointments shared...I stand in awe that my home would have the privilege of bearing so much.  And I look towards my new home with joy because in the end I know what made this place special. 

It wasn't the hardwood floors or the sunroom or the ten foot ceilings.  It was the people who came in and opened their hearts.  Those who refused to pretend that everything was okay and those who couldn't contain their happiness.  Those who helped me face the day and those who helped me pick out what to wear.  Those who dreamt up capers and let shattered dreams go.  These people brought the Spirit of God with them and He made this place a home.  A home for the broken, for the vulnerable, for the hopeful and the confused.  A home for the generous, the naive, the wise and the fool.  A home for me, who has played all those roles and welcomed in my traveling companions.

Now to you, Angelus Street.  You have much to look forward to.