While I was there, I never thought I would miss Bolivar Missouri. During my last year (on which this blog appologically was completely silent) I was filled with such an unshakable restlessness that often felt I could hardly breathe. It seemed that the time to leave and explore the world couldn't come soon enough.
But the time did come. We celebrated by throwing black, square hats in the air. My roomates and I said our so-longs, promising to stay in touch but knowing deep down that our sisterhood had forever changed its flavor. But what of it? Tremendous seasons lay ahead and brilliant, hidden courners of the earth need exploring.
That was a mere 9 months ago, and how I wish I could now return to that place. I never thought I was one for homesickness. I am a chronic "grass-is-always-greener-over-yonder-hill;" an incurable pursuer of unique experiences. It is this craving that draws me to new people groups, tantalizing philosophies, and to push the limits of my own physical endurance (which, truth be told, is sadly decidedly mediocre.) I would be headed to Chicago, where diversity is the very fabric of life, where I would embrace my independence and absorb colorful experiences like the Philharmonic, Broadway Shows, and History museums. The anticipation of what I would attain kept me looking always ahead, and I hardly gave a second thought to what I was leaving behind.
Disillusionment is too "one-dimensional" of a word to define my experience here, but it certainly is part of it. Grad School has a way of taking up one's time--and money. The much-coveted, ambiguous "Independence" also left me with less free time and less money than I had anticipated. These two factors alone quickly rubbed the shine off of my glowing imagination. Some days my adorable 10x8 ft room feels more like a cell, and the unmoving piles of snow make me feel like I'm in Siberia. Except that I've been to Siberia, and it's a lot prettier there.What I miss most though is my roommates. Living with people. Community that was obvious, tangible, and sometimes, inescapable.
I guess the simple version of what I'm trying to say is, this was harder than I thought it'd be. Much less glamorous, for sure. I think back to my beloved SBU, and sometimes my heart just yearns to return. But that's when I realize: the memories I yearn for no longer exist in real life. My friends have all likewise dispersed, if not physically then in other ways. The church I poured my heart into has new students and new leadership. How easily I forgot the restlessness, even the dread, I often felt on days when I wondered "is this all there is?"
Life isn't meant to stay the same. Each season has its own flavor, and not all of them are equally happy. I have nothing to complain about here in Illinois, but I'm not "happy" like I seem to remember myself being. And that's okay. Because if I was back in Bolivar, i would be surely crippled by my comfort. I would have no reason to strive ahead and dig deeper. So in light of the difficulties of this season, I want to share with you what I've learned in the six months I've been here:
Those who grieve are closer to God than those who are happy.
"Community" doesn't always look, sound, or feel the same. But we need it. And community you intentionally pursue out of your need is of greater value than that which is given to you without you looking.
Walking in a "Cloud of Unknowing" is a precious place to be, because it is only in those places that faith is truly possible.
God can do more in my waiting, then in my doing I can do (credit to Bethany Dillon here).
Most of all, that there is simply nothing sweeter than knowing Jesus. This is what I signed up for when I said "Jesus, use me in whatever way you please," and now I am experiencing the joy of obedience, without which I would be a restless, wandering soul. Some days are better than others--and no day is completely miserable--but every day I feel like God has drawn me away from those I love so that I have no where else to look but in His wonderful face. May the anticipation of what I will attain keep me always looking ahead, not in the past and not in the present, but in that sacred place where perseverance results in perfection, and His promises are true.
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