The last 8 years since I have moved away from my parent's has been interesting. I went to school in Springfield, MO, eventually fell in love with the town, but was unable to find a job in the area after graduating. I was heartbroken, moved home for the summer, and then landed a job in the big old city of St. Louis. I packed my belongings into my Yaris- which amounted to a computer and laundry basket of clothes- and moved into my friends apartment until I found a place to live. A month later I found a quaint 1 bedroom apartment and made it home. I had no furniture, so I borrowed an air mattress from my parents, and not a plush one made for camping, a thin cheap mattress that was like an over-sized raft for a pool. One of my friend's parents caught wind that I was furniture-less, so she loaded up her mini van and brought me a bed, a small tv, tv trays, and a few movies. My mattress served as a couch until I bought a futon from Wal-Mart, I bought curtains and bathroom stuff, and my aunt and uncle lent me a kitchen table- for better or worse it was home.
I hated my first year in STL. I had a few friends, but they were often too busy to hang out. I found a church I was uber stoked about, met a few awesome people, but later left the church due to some personal convictions (long story). My job paid the bills, I met some nice people, but overall hated it because it was a contract position and not guaranteed long-term labor. I was still contemplating med school and was stressed on how I could possibly pay for study materials. Most of my nights that first year were spent cooking dinner alone, being scared of the peeping Tom in my apartment complex, drinking St. James wine out of my Wal-Mart mugs, and watching the 3 movies my friend lent me over and over again. I would mix it up with renting movies at Family video and eating sour straws on a good night. It was miserable, lonely, and I wanted to move far away. I was depressed and ready to see a psychiatrist, but God picked me up and planted some amazing friends in my life.
I became part of new church plant serving the inner city population. I was extremely involved in a small group, and they were the most amazing group of individuals I had ever met. We laughed, cried, ate pie, and shared our deepest thoughts with one another- exactly what the Church body should be. I moved into a new apartment with an acquaintance, which had some rough patches, but I was able to save a ton of money to help pay for med school admittance. I met my future husband. I fell in love with STL, the amazing restaurants, the beautiful city parks, the people, and best of all the architecture. I matured and was flourishing. I decided to finally applyto medical school, and got accepted in KC, MO which meant ANOTHER move. Almost 3 years ago I moved to KC and started a new adventure, with hopes of returning to my beloved STL some day.
My first year of medical school was rough, all I did was study and avoid gun shots in my neighborhood. I lived in a hospital converted to apartments across from my school, planned a wedding, lived 3.5 hrs from my fiance, and studied my butt off. It was stressful to say the least, and KC was not my favorite place to be. I missed my friends in STL, and felt unsettled in KC. Once I married, I figured I would feel more at home in KC but that wasn't the case.
Robert and I moved from hospital apartment to a large apartment with wood floors in a better part of the city with little furniture and a new puppy. It was a nice apartment but looked barren with our lack of furniture and decor. We had time to check out some of the fun places in KC, but to me, nothing compared to STL. Robert got hired as a head pastor 30 minutes away to a small suburban area, and he spent a lot of time with daily commutes. We lost eligibility for the housing grant once Robert had a full time job, so we decided to find a home near the church. Here I was, a woman who grew to love the city life and urban church, moving out to a farming community with rows of houses that all look the same. My worst nightmare and something I swore I'd never do. Not to mention it was the 10th time in 8 years I had moved, so nothing felt like home.
We found a split level house that wasn't my dream, but it would do. We painted a few rooms, I hated all the colors, and spent months looking a the walls hating my house. Don't get me wrong, I was thankful for a house but it just didn't feel like home. We grew to love our church congregation (we still do in fact), but it has not been an easy road for me. I was terrified to be a pastor's wife of traditional Southern Baptist church. I grew in a SB church that was judgmental and legalistic, and I swore I'd never go to one again (catching the trend?). I instantly loved the people, but going back to Sunday school, organs, and dressing up for church was not an easy adjustment. In my mind it was a temporary situation while Robert and I were in school, but I had no plans of staying longer than our schooling.
I've slowly warmed up 'the burbs', and life in the KC metro, and my awesome church family but it's been a long process. Ask my husband, he will tell you of all the annoying times I told him about how someday we would be back in STL. Last week I had the opportunity of going back to my old stomping grounds in STL, and it felt so foreign driving in the crazy traffic into the city I'd dreamed about the past 3 years. In my mind it was still 'home', but my reality was changed once I went back. I got to enjoy catching up with old friends, seeing the beautiful buildings, and eating amazing food, all things that KC can't compete with, but in the end it no longer felt like home. I will always love my STL, but driving away I had the feeling that maybe I won't be back to live there after all. It makes me a bit sad, but I learned that home is where my husband is and where God has provided us to live. I came home last week feeling renewed and excited to make my home with Robert. God really did a work in my heart and now I can come home at night and say, "Honey, I'm HOME," and mean that 100%.
