By Emily Hoffman
    
     During my formative years I sang in many choirs and acted in many plays. One of my favorite pieces to sing from those days was a song from the Broadway musical, "Pippin."
     The song told how everything has a season and a time, while throwing in philosophy about cats in window sills and the struggle to fit in someplace in life. I still remember most of the song 30 years since singing it.
     I have found that concept - there is a season for everything - to be true throughout my life.
     Although I'd rather look around at the present, or ahead of me to the future, a glance over my shoulder proves that life is full of seasons, most are part of the natural course of a life and are welcome: school, college, career, marriage, children, retirement.
     Other seasons we do not expect or welcome: the untimely death of one we love, chronic pain, sickness, a lay off, or a divorce.
     Changes come and they go. The happy changes are much more welcome than the ones that punch you in the stomach and leave you heaving.
     Once more change is in the wind for me. This one falls into the first category and finds me leaving southwest Nebraska later this month to take a job in Missouri.
     I moved here in 1992 and loved the place. I found people friendly, the scenery beautiful. In 2003, when I left the Hamlet Union Church parsonage and moved to Palisade, I was certain I didn't want to move again. I'd had enough change. I found life comfortable. But as I have found with other heartaches I've encountered in my life, time does heal eventually even if a few scars still linger.
     Wauneta, Hamlet and Palisade have been very good to me. Even though I had one of the "punch in the stomach and leave you heaving" changes two years ago, friends and strangers in the community, people at HUC and in various other churches, held out a hand to me and helped pull me up back into the sunlight. I'm not certain I can ever express what the love and care of this community has meant to me.
     After being shell-shocked for a while, my children and I bounced back, and we owe that healing, in part, to all of you.
     Small communities can make us want to pull our hair out at times. Everyone is in everyone else's business, shopping is challenging, services and the arts are limited.
     Yet small towns offer so much: neighbor helping neighbor, a friendly smile, a sense of community, low cost housing, and the stars out your window at night.
     Even though I was raised in a city this decision to move has little to do with rural life. I can say it best by simply saying it's time for me to move on to a new place - very close to my family - to a new job challenge, to a new mid-sized community, and to a new life.
     Even though I know it's the right decision for me and my children it's hard to leave all the good behind.
     I'll miss my house, and all those who so selflessly gave their time and resources to help make it a home. I'll miss my co-workers, my friends, Walgren's meat counter and $4 movies. I'll miss this community because in it resides fantastic people.
     I'll miss seeing a friendly face no matter where I am - getting the mail in Palisade or walking down the street to an interview in Wauneta. I'll miss the walking path, the Palisade pool, and the wind in the trees.
     I'll miss writing this column for this paper. I'll miss writing about your lives. Everyone has a story and I've loved being the narrator for some of yours.
     I'll be in the office for the next week and a few days more. Stop in, say good-bye and give me some parting advice. There's so much collective wisdom around here, I would like to take some of it with me.