Things are happening way too fast in my life right now. I feel so deprived of an environment where I don't feel uprooted. I seldom feel as if I truly have one place of comfort, a sense of home. I can easily provide a list of places where I feel at home: My parent's house in Northern California, my apartment in Southern California, where I am right now in South Africa, where I used to be in South Africa, my best friends' couch, my car, the road to the 24-hour grocery store in my hometown... The problem is, the minute I feel at home, I am up and on my way to find a new place of comfort.
But that's just life, right? It moves on. College does this to people, time and time again. Everyone who graduated from college can say they survived, right? Let's just say the graduation rate amongst universities worldwide doesn't account for the trauma we [college students] experience whilst traveling among our numerous "homes," okay? It sucks feeling uprooted, over and over again.
up·rootˌəpˈro͞ot,ˌəpˈro͝ot verb | past tense: uprooted; past participle: uprooted 2. move (someone) from their home or a familiar location. "my father traveled constantly and uprooted his family several times"
I'm pretty sure 100% confident that our feelings of anxiety are justifiable. It's okay to feel the way we feel. If you're going through a similar situation as I am, you don't want to leave the place you're in now because you're just starting to make this place your home. The people you meet and the new experiences you're adding to your adventure resumé are increasing in numbers and it makes you so happy and so fulfilled. With each journey, you gain a new friendship or a new memory you wouldn't trade for the world. You're so grateful to be moving about from one place to another, so you can fill your memory box and grow deep in relationships. Even though this is the best feeling in the world, saying goodbye to the people you just started becoming acquainted with and the places you just grew to love is the hardest thing to ask anyone to leave behind.
"Storms make trees take deeper roots." -Dolly Parton
Don't get me wrong, when I'm halfway across the globe, I often remember the couch in the family room in my parents' house with the fireplace going and watching it pour down rain outside and my favorite movie on and a cup of hot chocolate and everything that reminds me of comfort in all the places other than the place I am in right now. It's such an amazing feeling knowing I get to travel and experience freedom, yet I still don't want to leave this place behind; the one I'm in right now, in this very moment. For the love of all things holy why can't I just be in all the places I love all at once? I miss my college friends and being at APU. There's nothing I want more than to be sitting in the library reading my favorite book instead of doing homework or studying for a test. I miss all the little details about the places I love the most. I miss the little things. The coffee runs with friends, the smell of my dad's pillow on my parents' bed, the lines at Disneyland in the fall, the two-egg special with a side of hash browns at Peppertree cafe.
I miss you, home. I miss you when I'm not there. But when I'm not at a place I get to call home, God is working on building His home within me wherever I go. I might feel uncomfortable for a minute, or maybe a little more than that. It's okay, though, it really is. It sucks at first, missing everything and everyone. Through it all, it's so important to remember that God's NUMBER ONE (!!!) priority is providing you with the perfect people and the perfect experiences that you will grow and learn from. He will still work wonders in your life, no matter how much you refuse to trust His plan. The road is narrow my friends, but it leads to so many opportunities and experiences you never would have had if you didn't choose to step out of your comfort zone, even if it was just for a moment.
“A person does not grow from the ground like a vine or a tree, one is not part of a plot of land. Mankind has legs so it can wander.” -Robert Payne
