Seven years ago I walked into Gymnastics City with no idea what I was about to get myself into. The gym had started a class for homeschool kids, and I figured it'd be fun to learn a little tumbling and have something to do with my younger siblings. So I took the class. Looking back on it, I'm sure the sight of a 17 year old doing cartwheels with the little kids must have looked rather strange. Probably because she didn't know what else to do with me, the coach started teaching me to spot. Before I knew it I was working a couple evenings each week helping out with rec classes, then working some with the team, then teaching summer camps, then coaching at competitions, then becoming the lead teacher for all rec classes and training new employees. I have finished high school, floundered through a couple crummy jobs, crossed the Pacific several times, learned Chinese, earned my black belt, changed churches, changed colleges, graduated from college...through all that, one of the most constant things in my life has been gymnastics.

Today was my last day.

I wanted to do a self portrait today...something that could convey the swirl of emotions I felt as I hugged the kids goodbye, talked to parents about my new job and cleaned out my locker. I even took the camera to gym today. But how do you convey the emotions of thousands of back hand springs, grins, tears, ripped hands, pats on the back, "I can do it myself!", cannon balls into the pit, explaining again which direction they rotate through the stations? I don't know.

One of the kids gave me a thank you card today. I cried. When she first came to the gym she was a scared five year old, still bearing fresh emotional scars from an abusive father. She was terrified of men and it was weeks before she would even let me touch her. It took a long time, but she has slowly healed. Today she gave me a hug and said, "I'll still text you my scores from meets."

Another girl was found locked in car outside a casino. She came to us a shell of a child, quiet and afraid. She's had a tough road, and more than once I've sat with her on a panel mat and talked and let her cry. A few weeks ago her mother wanted to take her back, while her foster parents wanted to keep her, and we prayed the whole week they were in court. The next Monday she runs into the gym, gives me a hug and says, "I'm being adopted!"

Yet another girl came to us with incredible skills, but she was scared of the high bar. Apparently she had broken her arm falling from the high bar at another gym. For weeks we worked on her dismount, starting with two spotters, then just one, then just one hand, then me standing next to the bar. Once she was doing it by herself we called her mom over to watch. The girl landed the dismount and gave her mom the biggest grin you ever saw.

Little victories won. Milestones reached. High fives given. Grand parents impressed. Discoveries made. Fears overcome. Tears cried. Dismounts stuck.

I don't know how to put that into a picture.

But I know I'm going to miss it.