You know what's stupid and hard and heartbreaking and beautiful?
This feeling that I'll never quite be whole again. My heart begs to be in so many places at once.
I'm home, and I love it here. I love spending every second with my mom talking about kids, family, faith, relationships, the future and every other possible topic. I love nights out with my dad just taking in his wisdom and advice. I love photo shoots and Salvo shopping sprees with my baby sister. I love late night Taco Bell runs and impromptu WalMart runs with my brother and all the things I learn about him on those short car rides. I love the freedom to spend hours watching documentaries, or read four books in 24 hours, or go for long walks without the looming thoughts of schoolwork over my head. I love catching up with high school friends, reliving those "glory days" and collectively laughing at how much better things are now. I love worshiping at the church I grew up in, being brought to tears by the growth and love that I see there every week. I love random trips to see my grandparents, just to say hello and listen to them tell stories. I love sitting on the front porch listening to rainstorms. I love sitting down and playing guitar for ages. And yeah, sometimes, I even love my crummy summer job. A little.
But even while I try to enjoy this last summer at home with my family (and truthfully, the first summer I've been able to give them my full attention in almost three years), I am eager to return to school in the fall. I miss my friends. Oh I miss my friends... I can't wait to get back to ministry lunch with my boys. I can't wait to have late night Doctor Who marathons accompanied by my roommate and way too much chamomile tea. I miss having team time until the late hours. I miss getting out of class early and going for breakfast before chapel. I miss "alternative alternative" chapel at the coffee shop when we reached our chapel quotas. I miss staying up until open lounges closed with groups of friends or talking one on one. I miss weekend breakfasts at Johnny's or Nick's with the girls. I miss walking across the lawn, up the stairs, or even down the hall to connect with those I dearly love. I miss the feeling that every interaction I have is not only fun but enriching and life changing. I miss classes that spark the passion in my soul, and the chance not only to discuss it in theory but to practice it through floor events, hall events, and chapels. I'm even missing late nights writing papers in the library!
As my heart aches to return, I know it won't be the same. The hard, crazy, wonderful year that I had won't simply repeat itself. It shouldn't. Truthfully, despite all the incredible things that happened, it was second only to the year I suffered from depression in terms of anxiety and pain. I am grateful for what God brought me through, and honestly, the way He chose to bring me through it, but I certainly don't want to live it again. I can't wait to be back; to see my friends again, to dive back into classes, to build new memories, to watch my brother begin his own college journey. But a little part of me... A growing part of me, is scared. Scared that nothing can live up to the community, the growth, the intimacy, the joy I experienced this last year. I trust that God has more for me; He always does. But still... I am afraid. It's so easy, when I'm away, to let the old doubts return. The crippling fears that I am unloved, unworthy, and unwanted resurface. Thankfully, they are easier now than ever to dismiss, with God's help and a few phone calls, text messages, Skype dates, or even just reliving the undeniable proof of this year's memories.
So I suppose, what I'm saying, is that I'm torn. I love my hometown. I love being here with my family. I miss my friends and my classes, but I'm scared that when I return it won't be the same for so many reasons. My question at this moment is this: have I made too much of the past, or do I really have more to look forward to in the future?
It's a lot of rambling, but thanks for reading. Grace and peace to you all friends!
Annus Mirabilis
n. phr. a remarkable or notable year in history; a year of wonders or miracles, used to speak hopefully of the future.
