I went home this weekend. Or at least, I went back to the first place that felt like home to me as an adult. I took my three kids and we drove three hours north to where the husband and I first felt settled. The older two made their first real friends there, the youngest kept asking if she had been there before. And when we went places, she would be hit with a burst of recognition.
So much was the same, so much felt comfortable. I knew the roads, I knew the shortcuts. I knew when to avoid driving, I knew when I really needed to leave to get somewhere on time. I knew the restaurants and stores. I knew where my friends lived. I knew the order of service, when the pastor was wrapping up, when the band would stop playing. I knew what questions to ask of acquaintances, and what I could ask those more closely connected. So much was familiar.
But there were a million ways that none of it was the same. There was new development, new stores and restaurants. There was finally a Starbucks, pizza places and more street lights accessible to the south side of town. There was construction in places where there previously been fields. For as many familiar faces at church, there were just as many unfamiliar places. The music and preaching style had shifted. There were things left out of the service, that my kids have grown used to in their new places.
Relationships have shifted. Where once there were easy conversation and open transparency, there were walls and stilted words. Where once there was interest and genuine concern there was a brushing off and judgement. Other relationships that had been at arms length and an insincere how are you held meaningful thoughts and questions about deeper questions. There was unknown shared interests and stronger bonds formed.
It's hard to go back to what was. It's hard to let go of what was.
It's necessary to remember where you came from. To pay tribute to the people and places that have helped shape you to be who you are. As hard as it is, it is necessary to go back. So you can learn what to let go of. So you can learn what weight you no longer need to carry. A return to home is a step towards making a new one.
We have to remember who we were so we can learn who we are becoming.
So much was the same, so much felt comfortable. I knew the roads, I knew the shortcuts. I knew when to avoid driving, I knew when I really needed to leave to get somewhere on time. I knew the restaurants and stores. I knew where my friends lived. I knew the order of service, when the pastor was wrapping up, when the band would stop playing. I knew what questions to ask of acquaintances, and what I could ask those more closely connected. So much was familiar.
But there were a million ways that none of it was the same. There was new development, new stores and restaurants. There was finally a Starbucks, pizza places and more street lights accessible to the south side of town. There was construction in places where there previously been fields. For as many familiar faces at church, there were just as many unfamiliar places. The music and preaching style had shifted. There were things left out of the service, that my kids have grown used to in their new places.
Relationships have shifted. Where once there were easy conversation and open transparency, there were walls and stilted words. Where once there was interest and genuine concern there was a brushing off and judgement. Other relationships that had been at arms length and an insincere how are you held meaningful thoughts and questions about deeper questions. There was unknown shared interests and stronger bonds formed.
It's hard to go back to what was. It's hard to let go of what was.
It's necessary to remember where you came from. To pay tribute to the people and places that have helped shape you to be who you are. As hard as it is, it is necessary to go back. So you can learn what to let go of. So you can learn what weight you no longer need to carry. A return to home is a step towards making a new one.
We have to remember who we were so we can learn who we are becoming.
No comments:
Post a Comment