I come from Wichita Falls, a small city about two hours north of Dallas. It’s not big like Houston or San Antonio. We don’t have a cool, well-known slogan like Austin. Pokestops are in three areas: downtown Wichita Falls, Sike’s Lake, and Midwestern State University. I’ve never seen myself staying in “little ol’ Wichita Falls.” Before I knew I was going to Baylor, people would ask me where I would be going to school. My response was always, “I’m not sure yet, but as long as I get out of this town, I’ll be good!” I would say that, and I’m not really sure why. Maybe I kept saying that because Wichita Falls was all I’d ever known, and I had this longing inside me to see the world, experience something different. However, I had never called anywhere else, “home.”

Now that I’m in Waco, it has hit me that I can’t really call Wichita Falls my home anymore. My home is now in Waco, at Baylor University. The first time I referred to my dorm as “home,” I felt really weird, almost like I was betraying my hometown. “Why do I feel like that?” I asked myself. “I’d always told myself I was ready to get out of that place!”

As I have thought on it some more, I realize I need to be grateful for my humble beginnings. I need to be grateful for the hometown that provided the school I went to for twelve years; grateful to the hometown that brought me together with friends I have known for 10+ years; grateful to the hometown that provided an opportunity to plant roots in a church and grow in my family there; and lastly grateful to the hometown that brought all of my immediate family within a ten-mile radius.

So while small towns may feel like a burden at times, they truly are a blessing. While I’m at Baylor, and I work on becoming the woman God intended me to be, I won’t forget my roots. I won’t forget that who I am today is because of the opportunities I had in Wichita Falls.