My daughter sent me a picture of the Pacific Coast. She was standing on a mountain top overlooking the surf at Big Sur. Even though I’d been on the East Coast for four years, the feelings of homesickness unexpectedly crept in and caught me off guard. It reminded me of another time when I was very homesick.
About a month before the big move, I hopped on a plane and headed east for a house-hunting excursion. I landed in Baltimore at night. Quite lucky for me, I was able to sweet-talk the employee at the rental car counter to let me use their last available GPS for my nine-day stay. Oh my goodness, I would have never found my way had I not had it. All the roads were referenced by numbers, not by name. It was incredibly confusing for me. The freeway was called an “interstate,” and for goodness sake, the lack of street lights and the presence of gutters on the side of the “highway” made driving the narrow country roads terrifying for me. I quickly realized I was most definitely not in California anymore.
I worked during the day, and house hunted every evening after work. I had nine days to find myself a new pad, but on day five, I was no closer to finding myself a place than I was on day one. I remember that evening very well. It was incredibly dark outside, as that time of year the sunset in Virginia about 5:00 pm. I worked until 5:30 or 6:00 every day. By the time I climbed into my car, it was pitch black outside. It had been my experience in the few days prior, house hunting in the dark was not the most efficient way to get the job done. I was very limited on time, so I pressed on. However, I quickly realized there was a bit of a shortage when looking for places to rent. That night I checked out a couple of places but again went back to my hotel disappointed. I was starting to think maybe this move wasn’t such a good idea after all. I’m typically not one to throw my hands up and quit or waste time on a pity party, but that evening I was tired and discouraged. I felt as if I was driving around in circles, and my slick GPS told me that it was very close to accurate. The feelings of homesickness came flooding in and nearly drowned me. I was ready to go home to the familiarity of my house, my roads, and my California sunshine.
As I sat on my hotel bed, I made a decision. I needed something to encourage myself. I needed something familiar. I took a minute to figure out what would make me feel a little less lost. I marched myself out to my little rental car, turned on that GPS, and typed in one word, “Starbucks.” To my dismay, the closest Starbucks was thirty miles away, but I didn’t care. I had a full tank of gas and an empty tank of emotional strength. So I hit the road. The drive was dark and scary, and the winding country road was intimidating. But I kept at it. In about forty-five minutes, I found myself walking into a Starbucks a million miles from home. It was exactly the fix I needed that night. It looked familiar, smelled familiar, and the white noise sounded familiar. Best of all, my drink tasted familiar.
It was a well-needed refuge and a quiet place to calm my nerves and refocus. I realized the fear of the unknown was getting the best of me. Where was my faith? Where was my trust that all things work together for good? I remembered all I needed to do was my part, nothing spectacular or exceptional. If this was the place God wanted me to be, I just needed to do my part, and he would show up in a way much bigger than I could imagine, which he did.
I found a great place to live on day eight by using a little creativity. I had discovered some townhouses where I wanted to live, but none were available for rent. However, there were three that were on the market for sale. I called the realtor and asked if she would please contact the owners to see if any of them were willing to take their homes off the market for a year. In exchange, I was ready to sign a one-year rental lease. She told me she was quite sure none of the owners would be willing to rent, but she would call them anyway. It just so happened that one owner was a little unsure he truly wanted to sell his place. He agreed to lease his place to me for a year. And to make things a bit sweeter, he ended up being a great landlord.
This week I was reminded that my feelings of missing home are ok. We all miss stuff. Sometimes it’s people, sometimes it’s places, and sometimes it’s things. But missing doesn’t mean stopping. We never should stop living and embracing and enjoying what we have every day.
“The past is your lesson. The present is your gift. The future is your motivation.” -Unknown-
Wishing you joy and peace,
Lorrie