Taking jabs at seriousness isn’t my forté but it’s Saturday and you are all out being leisurely so someone’s gotta wear the pants! Enter…me.
Let me show you something!
If we can all be cool and not make a big fuss about how I favorited my own tweet, we can move on.
I got a job this week. That’s right folks! I’m gonna be bringing that bacon HOME.
That’s enough tooting of the proverbial bedazzled horn, let me get to the point.
So now I go around telling people, oh, me? I got a job in LA. And in small-town central Texas, that’s like, a BIG deal. That is to say that somehow because you decided it was a good idea to move to a smoggy metropolis filled with eccentric (weird) and rude people (okay, I’m sure there are some good people too), you are better at life.
Living in LA (so far) has not been glamorous. I have found a niche, a place to call home in the church where I meet, but apart from that, LA is just a huge city with a lot of problems and tacos. And some museums. Which I’ve never been to.
So when I’ve visited my friends this week and have seen their lives, I got a little fuzzy inside. The small-town ones: the mom with two kids whose life revolves around the playground and mac-n-cheese, my sister-friend who is now serving the church full-time (kudos, kudos), my elementary school bus-mate who is now MARRIED and fabulous, my favorite group exercise instructor who followed her dream and opened a gym – I just want to say – their lives matter. They matter just as much as my job offer, just as much as my application to grad school (!!), as much as getting stuck in traffic on EVERY FREEWAY IN SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA. (I’m not upset. Really.)
To say that “because you do everything in a bubble that has a population of 30,000 instead of 30 million” means you are somehow “less than” – well, it’s not only mean, but it’s ignorant and insensitive.
I went to a new restaurant in my hometown and saw a girl who went to high school near me and also went to UT Austin. She lives in Seattle now and I live in LA. We are both visiting home. In our short exchange I realized – we aren’t better for leaving, we are just…gone. Lovers of leaving – that’s what we are. In a different place, at a different stage.
In my matchy match scrubs and my nursey clog shoes…I’m just doing my best to follow my Lord. Whatever that looks like – for now it looks like metropolis and tacos – I will say amen. I will say yes I do want lime and cilantro with that.
You, dear, you may be doing it big in another city or town, with another set of struggles and reasons to pray. But I salute you, wherever and however you are, because life is too short to compare ourselves, and we are loved regardless of geography.