Many Places Like Home

For those of you who don't know, I recently married my best friend Paul this past July. We met and dated in Chicago (where I'd been living the past 4 years) and spent our engagement across the miles (he in DC studying at GWU for his Masters in Public Policy). It was a really tough year being apart, and I was glad to see it end this summer.

Now we live in Arlington, VA, a 10-minute commute from DC. I've been here for almost 2 months now and it's been/continues to be a difficult transition for me. This is the first time I've lived away from friends and family before. As I intially grew uneasy with the discomfort, I endeavored on my own to make the discomfort disappear, assuring myself that if I just got involved enough in my community and at church that it would more or less instantly grant me friends and a sense of belonging. When that didn't happen (and I was still unemployed after a month), I began to bang my head against the wall of our bedroom wall. My loving husband sat on the bed with me or just held me in his arms and let me sob, hugging me close, on the over half dozen nights when the loneliness took over my heart. In his wisdom (having done this move a year ago himself), he advised that I "let it be", and allow the discomfort its place in my life and grow accustomed to it, instead of seeking to dissolve it.

It's a sign of God's grace now the things in my new world that are reminding me of my old one. For instance, the stop I get off of (Dupont Circle) to head to work at AED is a lot like the Belmont stop on the red line in Chicago--there's trendy restaurants, en mode clothing stores, and several gay-friendly establishments. Having spent a lot of time on Belmont and Halsted during my Emmaus outreach days, this was especially nostalgic for me. Oakton St., one street west of ours, is a spot where I like to start out my jogs through the neighborhood. It's lined with little A-framed homes that are well-manicured and groomed with white and purple mums, ivy-lined trees, and signs of children. It reminds me of my good years in northern Wheaton, where I grew up on Countryside Drive. Just off that street is my new "quiet/naturey/peaceful place to go when I'm confused or things don't make sense"--Colombia Gardens Memorial Cemetery. For those of you who know me well, you know how I feel about cemeteries :) In Chicago this place was the lake at Wilson Beach and at Loyola University. And last night Paul and I dined out Persian style, and the Chicken Tika, nan, and samosas immediately stirred up memories of Devon and Rogers Park.

This grace is even evident at our new parish, St. Charles of Borromeo. Though the style of the liturgy is more contemporary and the congregation is considerably larger, the mass is always the same. The parishioners are active in their community (much like St. Thomas) as is the priest, Fr. Gerry Creedon (who has a delightful Irish accent, btw).

I'm being humbled by glimpses of home I see daily. And even though sometimes I'd do anything to get back to the sense of confidence and independence I felt in Chicago, I believe that God will uniquely use this challenging time to refine me and remind me of my need of Him.

This is a strange place, indeed. People walk the streets and trains in fatigues. Helicopters routinely fly overhead. Everyone wears suits all the time. The humidity is unbearable sometimes. But God shows up here, too, even when I have trouble seeing him. He shows up in the most unlikely places, and routinely in my husband, Paul.