Home, again.

All the transitions I've experienced this year have been challenging. In some ways I maybe should have expected it, in other ways I could not have foreseen any of it.  

For those of you who I've talked to about my life this year, or the few times I've taken time to write about it, the general theme has been summed up in the word fascinating. 

It's been fascinating to experience my life unfold before my eyes. In general I have noticed that I understand the importance and weight of a season in hindsight. I think it's fairly rare to feel the importance and weight of a season of life in the actual moment. I was able to soak everything in because I knew something important was happening; something of lasting value was in my midst and I had to grasp it with all that I had in me. 

Still, I found that the season seemed to fly by and, like sand running through my fingers, it slipped away a little too quickly. Goodbye's were said, tears were shed, and I found myself saying "I already miss it" probably sooner than I could have actually missed it.

I'm the type of person that gets attached to people, places, and experiences. Essentially, every noun. I always hated the end of the school year, even in high school and college. While most were overly-eager to go get the heck out of there, I often found myself thinking "can't we just hold on a little longer?" I even dislike things like New Year's Eve, oddly enough. Because it signals the end of something, no matter how great or horrible the year was. More importantly, it signals the beginning of something unknown, something new, something with so much potential that it's kind of scary. 

The beginning of something new is a vulnerable place to be. It's like standing at the edge of the water (Ocean or Lake. Thanks Minnesota). It's like standing at the edge of the water knowing that it's going to be cold upon entering and that initially I might say "why did I ever get in?" Slowly but surely, however, the body adjusts and I realize how much I actually love it. Then there are moments of panic when the waves crash into me or when my feet can no longer touch the ground. I feel a slight pull in my stomach. I feel a momentary terror that says "see, you shouldn't have gotten in." But each time, I find my footing, I find my breathe, I ride the waves, and I'm okay. 

Moving to Minnesota changed me. It changed my perspective on the world. It changed how I viewed myself in mostly positive ways. It forced my to rely on other people when I'm someone that doesn't exactly like to do that. Minnesota made me appreciate both the warmth of the sun and the frigidness of the dead of winter. Minnesota helped me understand that, just like the seasons change, we are always in a cycle of becoming. Becoming what? Only you can figure that out. Sometimes we wither away. Sometimes the coldest of nights are when you find the most warmth in people. We come back to life, yes, we come back to life and get to breath in the freshness of spring. 

So I am again at the beginning of something new in a place that is familiar. Adjusting to old streets, old familiar faces, and the hustle and bustle of a place I will always long for. I've been to the coast again and experienced the tremendous power of the waves and the wind on the beach. I've experienced traffic once again where the only question that can be asked is, "Where is everybody going?" 

I find myself here. Knowing full well that I can call multiple places home and realizing what a wonderful blessing that actually is. It is of course challenging. It is in some ways fascinating. It is in many ways wonderful. So I will enjoy being here: home, again. Until I find myself back there: home, again.