The Pull of Home

I spent Saturday in New Hampshire. I’ve been missing the Granite State recently, and a friend offered up her house and her company which resulted in an altogether perfect Saturday. We spent a considerable amount of time debating the merits of New Hampshire, and whether or not I should consider a move up there when my lease is up in the fall. By the time we left, I’ll admit that I was more or less sold. I timed the drive down to Boston, realized that while her neighborhood is nine miles from the highway and it takes me 10-15 minutes to drive it, my neighborhood is 2.4 miles from the highway and it still takes me 10 minutes to get there. I left the stars twinkling in the early evening sky, the sunset over the distant mountains, the relative silence, and returned home to a night sky turned pink from the city lights, windows I needed to shut because of the noise, and blinds that wouldn’t keep out the changing of the streetlight that shines directly into my bedroom window. I woke up in the morning, and started my research.

And then…

Then I left my house with only a fleece to fend off the New England weather, soaked in the early Spring sunshine on my drive, arrived at church on time for the first time in months. Saw not one, not two, but the many, many friends I have made there over the past two years, and enjoyed a picnic lunch on the lawn of the Cambridge city hall. Sure there was traffic rushing past, and the green space was maybe 1000 square feet maximum, but I was surrounded by the people who have become my family down here, and I was reminded that is not easy to replace. I ran my errands, came home, and spent the rest of the day, soaking in the sun streaming through my bedroom window before it finally set behind the apartment buildings in the distance. This color, streaming into my reading corner, makes my Sunday afternoons complete.

There are so many things that I have found wrong with the Boston area over the last few months. There are so many things that make me want to hightail it north to a place where nature isn’t something you drive to, and silence isn’t something obtained by investing in a bulk supply of ear plugs. In the midst of the imperfection however, there are moments when I feel my roots stretching deeper into the soil here.

I know as a Christian, I need to seek God in this, to ask Him where to go and where my roots belong, but I do not know how to hear His answer. It cannot be as simple as the pros and cons list to which my friend A. and I assigned point values last night, which told me in no uncertain terms to move back to New Hampshire. Still, with the pull of my old home slowly tugging at my heart, and the pull of my new home tugging back, it should be an interesting season in which to determine my next steps.

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