Torn

I've finished my second of three years at graduate school.  While this is definitely a significant event, it feels less important now that I am nearly certain I'll stay in Dallas after I graduate.  Not forever, because I haven't yet learned how to commit to something beyond "Sure, maybe for a few years!".  But my plan to stay in Dallas for three years looks like it will expand to five, at least.

It's weird, realizing this sprawling city will be home for longer than I initially planned.  This weekend my grandparents visited, and one of my favorite parts of the weekend was introducing them to people from my new church.  It was lovely to have people come up to us who recognized my family from Facebook.  It felt like another step toward "these people are my new faith family."

But. 

But there's always a but.  Even as I settle into a place where I have "my people," I can so easily fall into discontentment.  Because Lindsay and I talk on the phone, or Jenna texts, or Mark says something unabashedly sweet on Facebook, and I think, "Those are my people."  I miss the endless hugs on Sunday mornings.  I miss being involved in everything, and I miss people knowing my talents better than I do, requesting and occasionally forcing me to use them.  I miss going out to lunch after the service because no one wants to say goodbye.  I miss the Bible studies and Tuesday night dinners and any excuse to hang out with my faith family as many nights of the week as possible.  I miss the friendly insults and the utter comfort with which I knew the men, women, boys, and girls who made up Woodland.

I don't know what to do with this.  I don't know how to parse out the difference between the evidence that God is using me in this new city with the fear that I came here because I'm terrified of good things and wanted to start over.  I don't know how to hope for a homecoming when I worry I can't take my new self home without regressing.  I don't know how to celebrate the life I have now without feeling like I'm villainizing the life I used to know.  I don't know how to fast forward through these years of sloughing through relationships, hoping for the level of comfort and vulnerability and trust that I enjoyed before.

I don't know how to be excited and sad at the same time.  Life is really good lately.  I'm doing something I adore in a place where I feel safe and challenged.  Those words--safe and challenged--kind of typify my experience in Dallas.  That's a really good place to be, so I'm going to be here for a while longer.  But I guess when the future starts solidifying, the past starts tugging at me.