This is cliché

People tell me I write my essays wrong, I say not wrong, just backwards, always starting in the middle and writing the introduction last.  I figure then I have a better idea of what I actually am writing about (since I already wrote it) so it makes the introduction not only easier but also more accurate.  For this post I wrote an introduction first, wrote the remainder of the post, then realized my introduction in no way related to what was actually written.   This post is about why I love coming home.  It’s about the things I missed while away.  It’s about me letting out my feelings in the written word.  So I apologize right off for the rambling, not fully processed thoughts that make up the majority of what is written here.  Like I said, this is cliché.

This last year was the first significant amount of time I’ve spent away from home.  Away from family, away from friends, away from the community I’ve lived and grown in for 19 years.  And I missed it.  Sure, I had a fantastic time in Boston, but I truly missed my family, my friends, my church, my community… my state.

Family

I am grateful to say that my family is, for the most part, semi-partly-maybe-a-little-bit-normal.  Ok not really at all.  But that just makes it all the more fun.  Who defines “normal” anyway?  I love evening walks around the loop with my mom, delicious dinners prepared by my dad, and just everyday conversations with my brother.  When I’m home, I belong.

Friends

You know you have a good friend when it doesn’t take but a second to strike up a conversation and be laughing, joking, crying, or whatever like no time at all has passed since you last saw them.  It doesn’t matter if you didn’t talk hardly at all during that period apart, it doesn’t matter if you talked to them daily about each and every thing in your life, when you are reunited at last it’s like no time was spent apart.  That’s how I’ve felt in the last couple of weeks; each time I have the opportunity to add to the repertoire of memories I hold with each of my very best friends.  Coming back and retaining such a great friendship doesn’t make it any easier to say goodbye.  It’s as hard as ever to give a hug and walk out the door, knowing it’ll be quite some time until reunion.  It’s a struggle.  To each of my friends, near and far:

May the road rise up to meet you,

May the wind be ever at your back.

May the sun shine warm upon your face,

And rain fall soft upon your fields.

And until we meet again,

May God hold you in the palm of his hand.

Church

I am the Church, you are the Church, we are the Church together.  All who follow Jesus, all around the world, yes we’re the Church together.

For the most part I went to church most Sunday’s while in Boston, but I could never seem to find what I was looking for.  I’m not sure if that was because I was looking for Christ First United Methodist Church of Wasilla… in Boston, which I didn’t find, or if I actually just didn’t find somewhere where I fit.  I did find a group at Northeastern that I attended regularly, and I made some very good friends with others in the group.  Coming home though, to church, is one of the best parts of returning to Alaska for me.  That might sound kind of weird, but it’s true.  I love the glass cross window, the way the pews are always arranged differently, the new carpet, the weight of the hymnal in my hand.  I love singing in the choir, watching children’s time, hearing Robert and Tori preach.  I love the people.  And when I’m at church, I know I’m home.

Community

I have lived the entirety of my life in a circle with a quarter mile radius.  I’ve literally moved across the street twice (and then once to Boston, but let’s not count that).  Wasilla is my home.  Some might say we’ve gotten a bad rap, either through meth or Sarah Palin, but I think we’ve got more to offer here in this little town nestled between the Talkeetna and Chugach Mountain Ranges, more hidden at the bases of those towering peaks.

State

I love Alaska.  Everything about it, except maybe flash hail storms in the middle of my run, though those do make for a faster mile as I turn it up a notch to get home, so I guess I do pretty much love everything then.  I honestly can’t imagine living anywhere else, which is posing a problem for my ideal career prospects at present, but I’m not going to get into that now.  Anywho, even though it’s just getting to what can be called summer, and there’s still snow covering all the peaks I want to hike, and I have to work most days, I still wouldn’t rather be anywhere else in the whole world.

Home is just that special.