Still processing
J. and I had to drive into Evanston this afternoon to attend the memorial service for the daughter of friends of ours. No one should have to bury a child. It is just wrong. But that isn't what I want to write about.
The service was held at our Evanston church, the one J. grew up in and the one I attended for thirty years. We have a lot of history there, just as we do with the City of Evanston itself. We have now lived away from Evanston for nearly three years. We are finding our place in our new home... making new friends, creating history and connections, becoming part of the community. It is slow work, but we continually feel as though we are putting roots down.
Yet, both J. and I found that being in Evanston, being in our church, it felt as though we had been gone on a vacation and now we were back. It would have taken very little to convince either of us that we still lived there, it felt so normal. Of course, if this were the case, we would not have had the many conversations with friends with them saying how good it was to see us, and asking how we were doing in our new home. There were a couple of buildings which took us by surprise because we didn't see them being built. But other than that, it didn't seem to have changed.
So where am I going with this? I don't really know. It leaves me with so many questions. At what point does a place really become home? Can you really have more than one? Will there be a time that I will go to Evanston and it won't feel so familiar? How will I feel about that?
Don't get me wrong. It's not that we do not love where God has placed us. This is a very good place for our family and where we need to be right now. But things are still not automatic here. In many ways, we are still the new people. We have no history here. It takes time to build that, and it is certainly not something that happens in just a few years.
I guess this transplant is feeling a little root shocked this evening.
The service was held at our Evanston church, the one J. grew up in and the one I attended for thirty years. We have a lot of history there, just as we do with the City of Evanston itself. We have now lived away from Evanston for nearly three years. We are finding our place in our new home... making new friends, creating history and connections, becoming part of the community. It is slow work, but we continually feel as though we are putting roots down.
Yet, both J. and I found that being in Evanston, being in our church, it felt as though we had been gone on a vacation and now we were back. It would have taken very little to convince either of us that we still lived there, it felt so normal. Of course, if this were the case, we would not have had the many conversations with friends with them saying how good it was to see us, and asking how we were doing in our new home. There were a couple of buildings which took us by surprise because we didn't see them being built. But other than that, it didn't seem to have changed.
So where am I going with this? I don't really know. It leaves me with so many questions. At what point does a place really become home? Can you really have more than one? Will there be a time that I will go to Evanston and it won't feel so familiar? How will I feel about that?
Don't get me wrong. It's not that we do not love where God has placed us. This is a very good place for our family and where we need to be right now. But things are still not automatic here. In many ways, we are still the new people. We have no history here. It takes time to build that, and it is certainly not something that happens in just a few years.
I guess this transplant is feeling a little root shocked this evening.
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