After 9 months of loneliness and the inability to shake the feeling of being "unsettled", we found a church that feels like home. It's a satellite church plant, and we're in love with them. After 3 months of disappointing job searches and unfruitful interviews (and an unexpected transition off of nicotine), Ryan not only got a job, but had 2 offers. Seeing the positive and uplifting change in my husband is remarkable. After 8 months of-- admittedly, prideful and selfish--frustrations with my job, I was finally given all the responsibility I've been itching for. And after 10 months of reconnecting in our marriage, Ryan and I both have recently been developing healthy relationships with friends outside of our home, which everyone needs. In fact, I have a girls shopping date tomorrow.
And yet, this week was just plain hard.
I spent the beginning of this week in New Mexico, doing a group training session for 8 baristas and members of management. I wasn't necessarily excited to drive 8 hours to New Mexico alone, but I was ecstatic to finally be in a cafe training again. Training is my favorite. And yet, most everything that could have gone wrong went wrong. Disengaged employees with no interest in learning, managers convinced that they had better things to be doing, and my nervous energy were a terrible mix. It was possibly the most discouraged I've ever felt as a trainer, which has been a core of my life for the past 2 years.
I spent the rest of the week trying to catch up on office work (all the new responsibility I talked about), getting ready for a meeting with our Board of Directors and a semi-annual "goal setting" event we have with our executives. As well as juggling my cafes, learning vendor relations and trying to mend office relationships I fear I've broken. This responsibility that my pride has been demanding just might be my undoing.
In the midst of all of it, Ryan and I have both been severely oppressed with feelings of homesickness. Pictures of nieces and nephews, growing up too fast, and stories of friends' parties and events that we've been missing have been weighing heavy on our heart. So heavy that many nights have been spent in silence or tears, neither of us wanting to talk about it but neither of us able to ignore it. We miss our community and our support. We hate feeling like we're missing out on being part of these important lives.
I can't help but be both encouraged and frustrated by a theme of "loneliness" right now. I recently reread Blue Like Jazz. I try to read it at least once a year, and I always grow from it in a different way. Donald Miller speaks a lot about loneliness in this book, and about how unhealthy it is. He describes how selfish a person can become with they are alone for too long, and how growing comfortable with being alone can affect you in all aspects of your life. I swear, he was speaking straight to me. I've grown far too comfortable with being by myself over the past 9 months, to the point where I secretly prefer it. I crave it. Being in community with people exhausts me, and the thought of going somewhere and meeting new people makes me much more anxious and nervous than it used to. It's unhealthy. It's unhealthy to avoid challenging yourself and forcing yourself to grow. We were meant to live in community, and it's not supposed to be easy. The more we live in community, the more we're forced to focus on the people around us rather than ourselves, and I've lost sight of this ever since moving to Texas. See both the frustration and encouragement?
It's okay to miss home. It's okay to miss our families. But it's wrong for us to stop our lives, thinking that we left them in Kentucky and will return to them eventually. This is the truth we struggle with. This is a period of growth, and growth is difficult. The only way to fight loneliness is to press into God and move into community.
I firmly believe we were supposed to move here. I don't think it's for forever, and it may not even be for much longer, but I believe God wants to do great things in our lives. I also firmly believe that this past week has been an attack of the enemy on Ryan and I as individuals and as a couple, and I'm ashamed to say that's not something I'm prone to admit. I don't know why, but I'm encouraged to know that we're in this together. I have an amazing, Godly man who encourages me.
Sometimes you have to fight through the muck and find God in the midst of it all. Like in a new friendship that results in a much needed girls afternoon. And a wonderful husband who delivers milkshakes to make a crappy Friday just a little better. And wonderful cousin-friends who recommend challenging and provoking books when I need them the most.
And then sometimes you just have to listen to good music and let go.
