Musings: Finding My Way Back Home

When I was a senior in high school, I was definitely one of those kids who couldn’t wait to get the heck outta dodge. I knew where I was going to college. I had already planned the student organizations I wanted to be involved in and knew exactly what I wanted to study. I had a plan, and the only thing standing between me and the freedom of college was that final summer at home.

I was ready to experience something bigger than the life I had always known in our small town. I was ready to meet new people, experience life in a new city, and generally just learn more about the world around me. I was always more of the independent type, so my parents didn’t have to push me at all when it was time to leave the nest.

And man, does being one of 33,000 students allow you to experience something “bigger” than yourself. UGA overwhelmed and excited me all at the same time. And I loved it.

What surprised me the most, though, was how God brought my husband and me together in His knowing, sovereign way. My mindset going into college was not to get in a serious relationship right off the bat. But God’s plans were different (and so much better) than mine. I ended up meeting Kyle only days after moving away from home. To put it very simply, we started to “study together,” eventually fell in love, and then got married four years later. Life took us from one college town to another in Augusta, Georgia, where we spent almost three years for Kyle to earn his doctorate in physical therapy.

Fast forward to Spring 2013, and it was finally time to buy our first home together. Because of jobs and other circumstances, it brought us right back to where it all began for me. Five minutes down the road from my parents, to be exact.

Life has a funny way of bringing us back home, doesn’t it?

To be honest, moving back to the town where I grew up wasn’t an easy transition for me at first. There are some things about this town that annoyed me back then that still annoy me today. And the confused glances from people I knew before meant constantly explaining that yes, I do actually live here again. There was also the feeling that old friends who’ve been here all along had moved on and made other relationships without me, and I wasn’t exactly sure how I fit back into it all. It was an awkward transition, at best.

Through the awkwardness, I struggled with why God brought us here. Is this really where we’re supposed to be? Did we buy a house here because it felt like the comfortable, familiar thing to do?

If only I had known then what I know now. God was faithful to answer my questions and my doubts, and He reassured me that His work is not done here yet. I know I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be in this season. And He didn’t have to, but He has brought so many blessings with it.

The closeness to my family, for one, is something I genuinely treasure now as an adult. We can have weeknight meals together, call each other up to go on a walk, I can have spontaneous girl time with my mom, sisters, (and now my baby niece!). We can talk about our struggles and encourage each other face to face. It’s the best, and I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

And my fears about friendships? Turns out those were totally unfounded. The old friendships are still there, some stronger than ever. There are new ones as well, and I just wasn’t expecting the abundance in this area. There are so many people the Lord has brought into this community in the same walk of life as Kyle and me, especially in our church family, and I know God has something big in mind for this generation.

My heart is especially full of gratitude for the women in my small group. We've laughed, cried, and prayed together, there have been late night road trips, we've seen signs of life at each other's homes with laundry on the couch and dishes in the sink, and we're about to add two precious new babies into the mix. We group text each other almost daily for encouragement and prayer and general hilarity. There is so much to be thankful for, and sometimes I have to laugh at myself that I ever doubted God in this area. Not to say there wasn't/isn't any hard work required on my part--there certainly is. Friendships as an adult require intentionality and hard work, just like Lara Casey has been talking about in her #FruitfulSummer series. I couldn't have said it better myself when she said:

"When we surrender our fears, take leaps of faith, and focus on progress, not perfection, we begin cultivating what matters—what lasts longer than us. Relationships begin to bloom in soil that once felt lifeless."    

[Celebrating Liz's baby shower]

I think this is why reading The Peach Keeper meant so much to me last year. It was almost like I was reading my life and thoughts play out on the pages of a novel. One of the struggles for the main character was living back in her hometown as an adult, and this quote in particular stood out to me:

"People adapt. People change. You can grow where you're planted. She slowly began to realize she'd grown to like this place far more than she'd ever thought she would."              

So to sum up my rambling, I have grown to really love this community. I can appreciate why my parents thought this was a great place to raise us, and I’m excited about the possibility of raising my own children here, too (Lord willing). One day they may be clambering to get away, just like me. But hopefully, just like me, they can come to know it’s ok if life eventually leads them back home.

About Musings: 
Musings are thoughts that we have on literature-related things that don't necessarily fall into neat categories. These posts will tend to be rambling and, at times, philosophical. Books affect our everyday lives, and these posts are where we explore the intersection between life and literature.

Other Musings Posts:
What Is Love? | God As Other | Christmas Hymns

Musings: Christmas Hymns

I was at a conference not too long ago and the speaker was talking about how overwhelming life can be at times. He asked a great question that I had not ever really thought about - what do you do to retreat from life when you need a break? How do you regain your balance and joy when life tends to be too much to handle? (He was asking what you do in the everyday to center yourself, not about going on vacation, which is the ultimate in centering oneself as far as I'm concerned.) It was pretty obvious once I thought about it. I have always retreated to words. Words speak to me (no pun intended. I hate puns) on a level that really nothing else does. Words expressing beautiful concepts, words put together beautifully, stories that bring hope... it is these things that help to restore my equilibrium.

Hail the heaven-born Prince of Peace! Hail the Son of Righteousness!

Light and life to all he brings, risen with healing in his wings

Mild he lays he glory by, born that man no more may die

Born to raise the sons of earth, born to give them second birth

Hark! the herald angels sing, "Glory to the newborn King"!

As far as I am concerned there is almost no music as beautiful as Christmas hymns. As my poor brother-in-law will attest, I must love the words of a song if I am to love the song. (He is the music minister at our church and is forced to hear my opinion whether he wants it or not). Ravi Zacherias said it best when he said he prefers four different verses to singing the same thing over and over again. There is so much truth and beauty and doctrine and grace packed into the Christmas hymns that I do not know why we do not sing them all year long. Most of us know them by heart and can sing them without thinking about what we are singing. I challenge you to truly think about what you are singing this season. We tend to not associate worship with Christmas hymns because, well, they are Christmas music. They are reserved for one season. Yes, they give us warm fuzzy feelings of camaraderie and good memories. Yes, we can recognize most of them by just the first few notes. But do we hear the words we are singing? Do we understand the incomparable glory of the Incarnation?

Truly He taught us to love one another

His law is love and His gospel is peace

Chains shall He break for the slave is our brother

And in His name all oppression shall cease

Sweet hymns of joy in grateful chorus raise we

Let all within us praise His holy name

Christmas hymns bring tears to my eyes and move my soul. They do such a wonderful job of communicating all the wonderful things the birth of Christ brought. Peace. Joy. Love. Mercy. Compassion. Grace. Atonement. Reconciliation. Glory. Redemption. Healing. Justice. Holiness. Unity. The list really could go on and on, but you get the picture. This is what centers me. When life is too much and when there is no peace to be found, I go back to the Advent. I am reminded that He has already brought healing and it is ours for the taking. I am reminded that, though I so often fall short in loving my husband, my family, my neighbor, He has given me the ability to do so and the grace to pick myself up and keep going when I fail. 

No more let sins and sorrows grow

Nor thorns infest the ground

He comes to make His blessings flow

Far as the curse is found

I hope that you, too, will be renewed by the beauty of Christmas hymns. Too often do we take for granted the grandeur of our hymns. I hope that you will be stirred by the magnificence of our God when you hear them. Do not be intimidated by the depth of the concepts they sing of; rather, be entranced by the depth of the love of God they display. Let them be a reminder that God is bigger than our circumstances. Let the words curl around your heart and settle your soul.

I heard the bells on Christmas Day

Their old familiar carols play

And wild and sweet the words repeat

Of peace on earth, goodwill to men

And in despair I bow my head

There is no peace on earth I said

For hate is strong and mocks the song

Of peace on earth, goodwill to men

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep

God is not dead nor does he sleep

The wrong shall fail, the right prevail

With peace on earth, goodwill to men

Musings: God as Other

Musings are thoughts that we have on literature-related things that don't necessarily fall into neat categories. These posts will tend to be rambling and, at times, philosophical. Books and literature affect our everyday lives, and these posts are where we explore the intersection between life and literature.

I (Jenny) had an epiphany at church a couple of weeks ago. It, honestly, had nothing to do with the song we were singing at the time and nothing to do with the sermon to come. The song was not one of my particular favorites, so rather than sing along, I decided to try and contemplate the holiness of God. Have you ever tried that? To try and grasp, however briefly, an aspect of God's character in its completeness? It is not possible, of course, but it is humbling and mind-blowing to try.

The holiness of God is not, I admit, something I dwell on often. Mercy? Yes. Omnipotence? Yes. Omniscience? Definitely. Holiness, however, is something inherently foreign to myself and the world I inhabit. It does not have a place in our culture the way the more.... appealing qualities such as love and mercy and kindness do. Holiness implies a standard, which implies judgment, which implies feelings of inadequacy and guilt. Pushing all that aside, I was trying to think of God as holy, not of myself in contrast to this holiness. In doing so I stumbled across- hence my epiphany- a wonderful facet of God that I had been not grasping fully in my self-centeredness.

God as Other.

In a culture that is constantly trying to bring God to our level, to make him more approachable and more likable, we often forget that he is not like us and he will never be completely knowable. What does this have to do with literature? I am so glad you asked, for it is exactly this- literature- which led me to this. I am writing on Grendel, one of the monsters from the Anglo-Saxon epic Beowulf, for my MA thesis. Grendel is the ultimate liminal figure- constantly on the outside looking in, not quite monster but not quite human, either. He is Other. He does not fit neatly into any of the categories that humanity is so obsessed with. Do you see where I am going with this? There is always some small part of us, even if we don't want to admit it, that feels a bit bad for these characters. We are drawn to them even as we are repulsed by them. Humanity, as a whole, does not do well with what it does not understand. When we can know something, know how it works and why it works the way it does, we are able to safely put it in a box. There is a certain security in knowing.

The beauty of this otherness is often overlooked in everyday life (I am not talking about Grendel, who ate men whole). I am talking about the unknowability of otherness; the foreignness of things that are not like us and do not conform to our taxonomy. When we seek to bring God closer to us, we lose an inherently important aspect of who he is. In not acknowledging this holiness, in being offended by it, we are ultimately seeking to remake God in our own image. We are trying to make him more like us so we can be more comfortable with who he is. It is into this otherness that we are called. We are given the chance to experience the wonder and the peace and joy and the mystery that holiness offers. We are offered a chance to become other ourselves, a chance to become more like God, to share in his holiness. In doing so we are able to know him a little more each day.

So, next time you are uncomfortable with something, be it God or something else, don't try to change it. Try to understand it without projecting your own fears and fallacies on to it. Embrace the beauty and the uncomfortableness of holiness. Don't banish it because of your own limited understanding. The figure of the Other, of the Liminal is not something that exists solely in literature, it just so happens to be easier to find there.

“The beginning of love is the will to let those we love be perfectly themselves, the resolution not to twist them to fit our own image. If in loving them we do not love what they are, but only their potential likeness to ourselves, then we do not love them: we only love the reflection of ourselves we find in them”  ―Thomas Merton