kayfromhome

Currently, I find myself residing in good ol’ Maryland.  If you didn’t catch my last post about moving, you can read all about my Leaving LifePoint here.

Originally, this post was written to regale you with the findings of my transition from WA to MD.

In writing, like in most living art, my stock story of relocation evolved into something a bit more… personal.  What started off as a description of transition has become a dirge of upheaval.

I’m a few months in and no more used to saying, “I live here now” than when I first arrived.  I’ve heard it said that life in the East Coast moves at a faster pace.  Life fills up quickly, and my plate is abundantly full.  I feel as if I’ve been existing at the brim, prevailing in the margin, and my mode of living isn’t quite what it used to be.

I’ve noticed that no one really dwells in the East Coast.  Even at meals, people often check out before the check comes; already mentally on to the next thing.  Which is baffling to a warm-blooded, community-oriented, dweller such as myself.  Where pacific islanders go, they go in droves and for the long haul. We settle in.

Maryland. Maryland. The people are kind, and the environment is welcoming… in a way that I’m not yet used to. This time around, moving has caused a disruption of community—a disruption that culture-shock has highlighted and heightened.  Perhaps, I had planted much deeper in Washington than I believed?  It must be true, because “uprootedness” is the word I find best describes the underlying theme of these last few months.

It is strange to think that no one within a 100  mile radius of where I reside knows my heart, my tendencies, my sins or my follies.  Not the deepest parts.  Not really.  Not even necessarily because they don’t want to!  But, how could they?

After all.  It takes 10 years to build a 10-year friendship.

Moving has required a lot of self-talk.  In the same way that David once needed to strengthen himself in the Lord, and the Psalmist demanded answers from his saddened soul, I find myself speaking simple encouragements to myself.

Encouragements like, “It’s okay to cry a little.”  Or, a lot.  In fact, Kayla, it would be a bit concerning if you didn’t have a little break down now and again.  If you didn’t, I would begin to question whether or not you understand the gravity of a cross-country move.

Encouragements like, “You’re allowed to miss home.”  Wherever “home” is while you’re missing it.  (Pitfalls of being a reformed nomad!)

Encouragements like, “It’s okay to feel alone in the body of Christ.”  It doesn’t mean that there aren’t people around you to console or care.  But the condition of the human heart isn’t solely dependent on community or circumstance.  Sometimes, feelings… Emotions are deeper than that.

And, that’s okay.  I’m okay.  It’s okay to feel this way.

To be completely honest, I’m still not entirely sure that I did the right thing by moving.  What I mean by that is, to my knowledge, God’s thundering voice did not command me “Thou shalt follow a boy to the ends of the earth.”

What I am sure of is I would have regretted not moving, much more than I sometimes (often) regret moving.  Which says something, I think.

Through it all, God’s unending, never failing grace has been my constant companion… Even as I trudge along to find new, real life companions.

Speaking of.

Amidst all the goodbyes, is the sweetest of hellos.  Hello real-life, wrap-your-arms-around-me, boyfriend.  No more LDR.

So with that, I say “Hello new life, new mercies and new chances!”

Hello, Maryland.

Hold on to your goodbyes. Because I plan on staying a very long while.