i remember thinking, "why would i leave home? this place is nice and won't my family be sad with me gone? why am i doing this to myself?!" i knew i was only moving a couple hours away, but it seemed like such a bad idea. and unc charlotte, the university in commuting distance, was starting to seem like a really good idea. i had been dreaming so long of a new adventure, but i was antsy when the time came to take that big step in the direction of the unfamiliar.
despite my anxiety, i drove up the mountain and began to create my new space. i put pictures up on the wall of my friends and family in an effort to make my cinder block dorm room feel like it was where i was supposed to be. i unpacked my new ikea purchases as my new roommate, almost a stranger, and i stayed quiet while our parents made boisterous small talk.
one month after arrival, i drove back to huntersville, with my new roommate/best friend in tow, to escape dorm life. i returned regularly to drive home, counting out the weekends between visits- almost testing myself to see how long i could go.
but somewhere over the past few years, i stopped having to test myself and i stopped counting weekends. i also stopped calling huntersville home. it was technically my hometown, where i grew up, where my family lived, but i stopped identifying myself as a huntersville resident. in so many more ways, boone was where i was growing and where a new type of family was forming.
at some point, home became a third floor square apartment, with a shower that never drained, a ridiculous amount of smoke alarms that went off when you boiled water, and walls that shook when the wind blew in the winter.
it was where i was being nourished, loved, accepted. where we laughed, argued, worked, feasted.
i drove away from boone last week. i sobbed as i said goodbye to my roommates and as i left the town that had been exactly what i needed these past four years. jennie and i caravanned down the mountain and pulled over as dusk was beginning to settle over the blue ridge. the trees were a million shades of spring green and the mountains stretched endlessly toward the moon.
i expressed how frustrated i was that we had to leave the beautiful mountains, the perfect restaurants, and the best friends. it wasn't fair and i probably would never be happy again. (dramatic, i know.)
jennie, always able to look past my ridiculous ability to ignore any positivity when life seems bleak, reminded me that i would find somewhere new to love. with new restaurants that fit every craving, new sights to claim as my own, and new friendships that would carry me through the next phase of life.
i have to remind myself that all new things are daunting and scary and home will always seem like the nice choice before a big change. and i don't know what that next change will be, but i know that God rewards our blind trust. when we think that life can't be better than what we already have, he likes to remind us how little we have seen and how little we know. he is bigger. he is the god of our dreams. he designed us individually to be excited by certain places or connected to new people. my life doesn't have to look like anyone else's because he has made me unlike anyone else in order to fufill some unique purpose that will hopefully reflect a part of his beating heart.
four years ago i left home and, without realizing it, found home somewhere else. i'll move somewhere new and put up pictures, different ones than i had four years ago, and be patient while i wait to find home again.
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