Blessed with understanding

I'm almost packed.
This is real.
You have no idea how much i'm going to miss you.
I want to cry.
But i won't.
I cannot.

I love looking at the stained glass in my church when it's morning and the sun's rays filter through. I have an urge to kneel in front of the altar. To cry, to shout but also to sing.
Because there still resides in me, despite all of this sadness and anxiety, a sort of joy that understands this: I am a child of God.

There really is nothing else i can cling to.