There was a song we sang when I was a child about the great state of Montana. It went like this: “Montana, Montana! Glory of the West. Of all the states from coast to coast you’re easily the best. Montana, Montana! Your skies are always blue! M-O-N-T-A-N-A! Montana, I love you!” It was sung to the tune of a school fight song. And in my heart, that is how I feel. I will always love Montana.

While shopping for thread, I met a woman who moved to Montana from Minnesota. The thing she missed the most from the midwest is Western salad dressing. I didn’t know, but it is not available in Montana. Her family is missing it. It made me smile that when she learned I was from Indiana, she was compelled to share her love of Western dressing with me.

Years ago, at lunch with new co-workers, I attempted to make connections with the women by sharing something about my previous employer. Impatiently, the matriarch in the group told me I didn’t work there anymore so I didn’t need to worry about that work environment. I was silent the rest of the meal.

It’s difficult to let go of attachments. It might be a place we lived, a hometown, a job, a salad dressing – whatever our heart attached to; the thing that gave meaning, purpose or enjoyment. Just as my co-worker harshly pointed out to me, letting go is necessary to successfully embracing the next step. Paul, in kinder words, said it like this…

…but I focus on this one thing: Forgetting the past and looking forward to what lies ahead, ¹⁴I press on to reach the end of the race and receive the heavenly prize for which God, through Christ Jesus, is calling us.

Philippians 3:13-14

I wonder how often our longing for the past, even distant past circumstances, hinders me from truly living in and embracing the present moment. I don’t believe I can be fully present in the NOW if I am longing for what used to be, even if it is just the place where I once lived.

A few years ago, arriving in Indiana after a few weeks in Montana, I realized my heart was home. I reveled in that feeling, knowing that it was the place my children call home, the only thing they know. I was happy to be home in Indiana.

I am grateful for my heritage. Montana — and everything that word means to me — will always hold a corner of my heart. To borrow scripture, I keep these things and ponder them in my heart, while at the same time, holding dear my present circumstances.

But for now, Montana, I bid you adieu! Until next time!

How about you? Is there anything that has your heart’s attention? It might be your place of origin, a relationship, a job, an ex-lover. Can you let go of what lies behind so that you can grab what is ahead with both hands?