Growing up and moving on
Courage is something that changed my life. Coming back to California after three wonderful weeks of Christmas break was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. Not only leaving my family once again, but the way of life I’ve known. I am now once again facing the future. Coming to school out here isn’t merely a location change but a change in identity. For 18 years I’ve grown up as a child in my parents’ home. I was responsible for lots of different things but never fully responsible for day-to-day living.
When I first came to California, I was excited about the adventure in store. Now, I know what it’s like to be on my own. I know what it’s like branching out and making a new family of sorts. At break, without my original anticipation and excitement, I had more “brain space” to focus on actually leaving. It was odd because the full realization of what I was doing didn’t hit me as I said goodbye; I was already keenly aware of its effects throughout the entire time at home. This time around, curiosity was no longer the biggest motivator for leaving — courage was. I now was aware of exactly what I was facing — the world I was leaving and the one I was returning to — and still I knew I had to go because this is where I have been called. Not only am I supposed to be here, but this is the way I’m being strengthened and challenged. Leaving home and creating a new one and figuring out who I am outside of the comfortable “fishbowl” I’ve always known is bringing me so much growth.
Some people may have practically raised themselves, so to them it wouldn’t be as much of a shock growing up and moving out. But everyone reaches a season where suddenly they now are adults. Their challenges may look different than mine, but for me growing up has taken a lot of love and support and a little pinch of feistiness that says, “I can do this!” Driving back from the Sacramento airport with my house mom, I commented, “We’re almost home.” I caught myself and then realized that, yes: Redding, Calif., is my home. At least for now.
My older sister is out here visiting me for 10 days. It was crazy pandemonium as my roommate Anja flew home to England for her dad’s military award from the queen, and my sister flew in on the same plane. About six hours before, we discovered that all flights in and out of Redding were canceled. Amidst an hour of confirming that flights really were canceled and figuring out transportation methods, we finally decided to drive four hours down to connecting flights in San Francisco. My housemate Michael drove through the crazy San Francisco traffic (at least crazy to this little Iowa girl) in pouring rain, with the car only fishtailing once. Anja made it safely to her flight, and I was so excited to see my sister Auburn! I love having her here. It seems like such a natural thing to look over and see her lying on her stomach on the bed across from me, yet at the same time I find myself wondering how it’s even possible that she’s actually standing in the kitchen, wearing my green sweatshirt and cooking French toast.
I’m so blessed to have her here with me. In a sense, it inspires me to stay strong and continue pressing into the amazing breakthrough I’ve been receiving. I know I am not alone, so I have the courage to continue. As Dr. Seuss says, “Don’t cry because it’s over; smile because it happened.” I feel this way about the wonderful experience I had growing up in Newton. In every person’s life, there is an opportunity to be courageous — to step out and take the risk of leaning onto the edge of your destiny. I love my happy childhood, but I’ll continue believing life’s only getting better.
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