It’s been quite some time since I’ve shown my face around here. With good reason: the trip was done. However great and amazing it may have been it was finished. It was in the past and it was time to move on. Interesting that after such a long time of being on the move, when all was said and done and it came time to actually move on to something else I took my sweet time about it. Fortunately, since I was flat broke, I had the advantage of having a ready-made home to go back to.
No rent, free food, instant job, gotta love the parents. So I moved back into the room that had been mine all through my high school years. It’s changed a bit since then, but it was still considered mine (or at least my storage closet). And I went back to the job I held all through high school (and even a year or so prior) as well. It was different store and all entirely different people, but it was almost scary how quickly I got back into it. It was almost as if I’d never left.
So this is what filled my days during the numerous months that followed the end of my great Latin Adventure. My evenings were filled with provolone and pepperoni and my days were filled with…well…mostly nothing. Not to say that I spent all my spare time staring into space (although there was a fair amount of that). I did engage in numerous little projects to make it seem like I was busy. But by and large I did nothing really of consequence. I’d read. I’d organize my old stuff. I’d go running. I’d take the dogs for a walk. I’d visit with my folks when they were around. And there was thinking, a lot of thinking. But as far as moving forward I wasn’t really doing a whole lot of that. Sure, I was saving some good money from working so much. And as far as everyone around me was concerned I was saving and waiting for the time when I would move out and go back to Seattle. This had always been what I’d told people what I was going to do after the trip was over and I was able to. But what I failed to tell everyone was that I was no longer sure that was what I wanted.
The first time around when I was living in Seattle it was indeed one of the greatest chapters of my life. I made incredible friends. I had a wide variety of awesome experiences. I grew so much through college and I firmly believe that going there was one of the best decisions I have ever made. It’s never really easy to explain to anyone why I chose to go to Seattle in the first place. I’d never been there. I didn’t know too much about it. I had no family there and knew absolutely no one. And yet aside from UNR (a mere 40 minutes from my mother’s house) the UW was the only other school I actually applied to. Why? I don’t really know, but I like to think God meant for it to happen.
So the first time around was good, but would another go be just as good or hopefully even better? I honestly couldn’t say. I knew from the moment I moved out of Seattle the first time after college that if I were to ever come back things would be a lot different. But I had no better ideas. Every once in a while I’d pray to God to give me just a little hint that going back would be the right choice. God chose to be ambiguous on the subject, which I think He did on purpose.
So eventually I did it. Through the grace of a good friend (who I couldn’t have done this without) I was offered a place to stay in Seattle and I set a date for the journey back to the Pacific Northwest. It was a very intense period for me filled with equal parts excitement and nervousness. Even though I was going back to a place I knew well I still really didn’t know what to expect. But the diving into the unknown is what makes life an adventure, so I made my plans while trying to believe that if I trusted in God everything would work out well.
I love road trips. Watching the world go by from the driver’s seat and venturing where I please, the world unfolding before me. It was a good trip down winding roads through gigantic redwood trees and passing traffic logged streets of enormous cities. From Carson City to San Francisco to Portland to Seattle and the many miles inbetween, through sunny skies to pouring rain to dense fog and even a freak blizzard, through solitary dinners at Burger King, quiet hotel rooms, and evenings reminiscing with old friends it seemed like I went through it all. Eventually, I made it. I discovered a new place and was reunited with friends I hadn’t seen in ages. Then it was time to set about making a new life for myself. This has had its ups and downs.
If I were to use a negative word to describe my time here so far it would be “lonely”. Living essentially on your own isn’t easy sometimes. Sometimes it can be downright miserable. I’ve always been a very independent person who strives to be self-reliant first and foremost, but when you spend several nights in a row at home all alone it can put you in a somber mood. If it extends into the weekend it can be downright depressing, especially if you’re someone like me who takes the utmost joy in positively spending time with people. Another aspect that takes some getting used to is that oftentimes you end up going out in public and doing things alone too. Eating, the movies, a basketball game, if you aren’t careful you can feel a little outcast in the middle of a crowd. It can be particularly hard to sit by yourself in a church pew and look around at all the couples, the families, the friends who are there sharing in the grace of God and no matter how close you sit there’s at least three feet between you and the nearest person. Feeling like you’re alone in your faith is indeed one of the saddest places to be. Yet every week I still go because it’s important to me and I still feel that I get something out of it. God is with me always. I know that. And I think if it were always easy it wouldn’t be faith.
But even still for all the reasons I listed and a few more that I haven’t being back in Seattle has at times been almost intolerably hard. I knew it would be difficult and lonesome at times, maybe even a lot of the time. I wasn’t in anyway expecting it to be all easy and effortless, but sometimes I feel like there should be a little more than what there is. So you can imagine what happened next: I began to wonder if perhaps I’d made a mistake in coming back.
It’s an honest question, but the trouble with it is that it’s not really easy (or maybe even possible) to answer it. Once again I turned to God and prayed, asking for some sort of hint that I’d made the right choice, and once again God was resolutely silent on the matter. In the end I settled on one thing: I made a choice, and every choice has consequences both good and bad. The one true mistake would have been to choose to make no choice at all and remain back in my mother’s home waiting for I don’t know what. Was coming back to Seattle the best thing I could have done? Maybe not, but it was a start, and every journey has to start somewhere. And with commitment, love, and passion almost any choice can be made into the right choice.
If I were to pick a positive word to describe my time here so far it would be “hopeful”. In every day there is an opportunity; it’s all a matter of having the courage to take it. Life may be a lot different than it used to be, and certain things that I may have expected may no longer be in the cards. But God is there guiding me. He may not always be clear, but there is a reason for all that He does and He abandons no one. And there is an element of excitement in all of it. His blessings are everywhere, especially in the hard times, for that is where you grow the most. There is a place for everyone in his kingdom and the adventure of life is His gift. I look forward to my journey, whatever it may hold.