There are a lot of doubts when you move away from home.
Is this the right decision? Is this the right place? What am I going to do? How am I going to do it?
Am I ready?
I’ve been struggling with these thoughts over the past few months. What college kid doesn’t? It’s normal, although that doesn’t make it any easier to answer these questions, or even categorize or organize them.
But over this past break – away from school, away from assignments and dorms – I’ve realized a lot. I realized that home no longer means the town I grew up in, that it doesn't just mean one person or one place. My dorm, my college, my professors and my friends I live a few doors down from are the right choice. I realized that “home” can have more than one meaning.
When I first called George Fox University home, I surprised myself. Was it home? Was that a betrayal to my home town? There were more questions and doubts. But what I settled on was the fact that it was subconscious. I didn’t think twice about calling it home. It wasn’t a betrayal to my hometown or my family or my old room. It was a new meaning – a new definition added to my dictionary.
Over this Thanksgiving break, I haven’t magically figured out my life nor have I fully answered every doubt I still have. But what I have found is a new confidence about where I chose to go. About what home is.
I’m pretty sure I’ll never be ready for life. I’ll never quit having doubts and fears. Some of my choices have been solidified, though. I know that I was meant to be at George Fox. I know I was meant to leave home; I know I was meant to marry my boyfriend in the army.
And for now, that’s good enough for me.