I thought a Neil Diamond title would be appropriate for this post, mostly because Neil Diamond is rarely inappropriate.
I just moved to Southern Utah after a spell in Washington DC and Manhattan. It was a decision-making epiphany that went something like this: one afternoon I got to thinking about my nieces and nephews and realized that I didn't want to be so far away from them anymore. Also, I have a crush on the desert. So I migrated back to home soil...just like that. There's a chance this one-horse town girl had no business being in the big city anyway, but I love that I did it. I love it. And feel quite changed and motivated by it.
But now I'm waking up to this: (Sigh)
Instead of this: (Ew)
Which suits me much better and always has. I didn't think I would necessarily come back to Utah--especially to a town where I'm unclear about whether there's anyone even close to my age and single. But I won't be cowering to that fear because I need this landscape and the proximity of family. Also, I think seemingly unusual choices can make our paths pretty exciting and faith demanding. And I could use a dose of that.
I've realized that it really matters to be in a place that feels like home--be it city or country or island or frozen tundra. I think we limit our experiences because of the fear of not meeting someone, but I'm convinced that an environment that feels the most natural will expand our hearts and that always attracts good things. It's necessary to trust that God understands our needs and desires regardless of geography...and including geography. A true home should never be undervalued. We need that as single people just as much as anyone else.
So, here I am feeling at home in Utah. And I have yet to give it the proper greeting it deserves. Thus...
Hello little people who look just like my brothers and sisters. I missed you so (and your mamas and dadas too). I love that you can spend day after day pretending to be pirates, catching lizards, and playing with baby dolls. Your sweetness completely fills me up.
Hello air. I forgot what it felt like to take a big deep breath of dryness.
Hello desert sky. Your stars have almost made me weep more than once since my return.
Hello small town traffic-free streets. Your nemesis, traffic, is super lame.
Hello Rocky Mountains. You are still stunning.
Hello Springdale Farmers Market. You inspire me to keep my dream alive.
Hello job search. Hopefully I will be saying good-bye soon.
Hello blogosphere. You intimidate me, but I think I'll still give this a try. Please be gentle.
p.s. Mother Teresa had a biggie heart. And I heart Mother Teresa biggie. Thanks for the reminder Liz.