Honesty Pants

Reflecting on my life, I've come to the conclusion that I'm a nomad.

The past month, my life has been a ridiculous roadtrip of packing, unpacking, living in my car, living out of my car, sleeping on other people's couches and beds, eating other people's food, eating an unneccesary amount of fast food, the la quinta hotel, directions on the iPhone, beautiful east Texas pine trees, leaving home to come home, lots and lots of Matt Chandler podcast listening, my dad's home-made garden items which I like to call "Pop's Produce", my mom's out-of-this-world home cooking, ice chests full of food to give as gifts, the great plains, waving at Doc Kyle on his morning walk as I drive to school in the morning and then him waving at me on my evening run while he's driving home from school, the stars, lap swims, in-service teacher days, first days of high school (again), buying a lunch box, attempting to be professional but probably failing, and signing checks for insurance policies which smell like adulthood.

Welcome to post-grade life.

The "twilight zone" right before "real life" begins.

I'm sorry, but since when did this stop being real life? Last time I checked, if I don't do the KPTP, which is the most excessive document on this planet, I won't be able to pass this thing called student teaching. I think I shall put it aside and tell my professor I'm not quite in "real life" yet, so all these funny requirements are merely fantasy. I'll let you know how successful that is.

So I have been trying to write and document life, because that's the only way I can actually remember what happened yesterday, but to little avail. But here's what I have been thinking alot about lately:

On missing things.

When I was in Houston, I thought a lot about Hillsboro and the other places like Tyler, Texas that have a really special place in my heart. I found myself thinking about Hillsboro and missing it quite a bit which sent me on another rabbit trail of mental extravaganzas.

Do we miss things or people because we actually miss them, or we miss how familiar they are to us?

Did I miss Hillsboro because I actually like the actual town? Or did I miss Hillsboro because it is what is most familiar to me at this moment?

Well, my friends, I think I came to a conclusion.

The dangerous thing about familiarity is that it can be something we run to by just standing in it. We gravitate toward what we know. Now, I will say that growing deep roots in a community is a command from Christ. It's one of the best gifts God has ever given us.

But at the same time, I wonder if we tend to love the fact that something is familiar more than the thing it self.

Good news: I actually have missed Hillsboro because I actually like the town. I really, really really like the town. I like how quirky it is. I like how small it is that I can run around it three times in one evening jog. I like the old ladies I pass on their bicycles.

I think the thing about realizing whether you miss something or someone for what it is or who they are rather than their element of familiarity, resides in this one factor: When you come back to it and it is not the same as before, yet you love it just as much, then you know you love it for what it is, rather than the element of familiarity it can give you.