Farewell to Texas
When we moved to Texas five plus years ago, I was grumpy about it. I was used to our small town, used to our doctors, used to being close to friends and family. I was ready to move our family of five from our small apartment in student family housing, but that's about all the change I was willing to endure.
I was applying for a Master's program (I didn't get in) and secretly hoping I was pregnant again (I was). I was feeling relieved that my husband and I had (finally) gotten our degrees. I knew it was going to be difficult to make friends, being the introverted homebody that I am. But, being the (mostly) supportive wife that I am, I procrastinated the hell out of packing our stuff and begrudgingly moved our family across the Red River.
We got settled in a house with a ton more room. I found some of the perks to living in a big city again - lots of grocery stores to choose from, disappearring into the crowd, and shopping for a new church.
Well, lo and behold, that house wasn't as perfect as we thought and as much as we wanted to, we didn't fit in at that church. It was disappointing to say the least.
That lasted a year. We were then "homeless" again at my father-in-law's home in Oklahoma. My husband would be with us on the weekends. I was trying to get into my Master's program again. We were now up to four children. We chose a place to live that was halfway between the distance of my husband's place of employment and my would-be grad school.
It turns out that the school in Dallas didn't have a space for me, but they offered up a spot in Houston. Houston was too far of a drive, so maybe next year, right?
Obviously God had other plans. Our youngest (#4) had just turned six months old when we discovered we were to be blessed with another child. Overwhelming as it was, we kept trudging on, trusting that God had bigger plans than ours. We found ourselves in a small duplex, splitting the distance between Fort Worth and Dallas, with the kids attending a very highly rated public school (such a blessing!).
I remember the first time we went to mass at the church that would change our lives. My parents had graciously come down for a visit on our anniversary so we could have a rare chance to go out for dinner with just the baby (#5) and go to a movie. We looked up Saturday Vigil Mass times close to our location (we were introducing Mom and Dad to Trader Joe's), and we found a unique church.
We felt welcomed and wanted. No one judged us for having five kids under eight years old. No one cares about how we're still renting after all these years. No one judged us for being new college graduates in our thirties.
I quickly found the mom's group and immediately felt at home. Understood. It had been years since I felt like I was at home. This was exactly what I was yearning for - beautiful women who were right there in the trenches with me. We supported each other. We prayed for each other and each other's intentions. I learned how to welcome and let myself be welcomed. I could show my weaknesses.
I'm a firm believer that there is a reason for each person you meet. It's been a little over two years that we've been members of this parish, and I'm sad that we already have to say goodbye. We are returning to that small town in Oklahoma.
As I sit here writing this, tears are streaming down my cheeks. I just received a text from another beautiful mom offering help with packing and holding the newborn (#6). It's been a very long time since I've felt this supported, this loved. I'm not at all trying to say that I don't want to move back to my homeland!! I just don't know what it is about this place. There's something special here.
You want to know something, though? I think maybe I'm that special something. Maybe opening myself up so people could see the dirty, raw, imperfect sinner that I am...maybe that is the reason I feel welcomed. They are showing me the love of Jesus, being Christlike, and I am finally paying attention to others, instead of myself. Over the years, my selfishness had placed my family in a dark place. Here, they simply welcomed me, loved me, were patient with me, just as Christ is in every moment. We taught each other, encouraged each other, and are constantly challenging each other to be better Catholics, wives, and mothers. And through this support, I've been able to let my loving Father do what He will with me. After coming back to Reconciliation and being washed of my sins, and seeing a glimpse of heaven every time I go to Mass, my eyes are more open than ever before.
So here I am again, about to embark on a new journey to an old home. And I will thank God every time I remember all the beautiful souls (who happen to reside in Texas) who have helped me prepare to be a disciple of Jesus. I will miss each and every one of you!!!
May the Lord's Peace be with you always,
Your sister in Christ,
Jennifer
I was applying for a Master's program (I didn't get in) and secretly hoping I was pregnant again (I was). I was feeling relieved that my husband and I had (finally) gotten our degrees. I knew it was going to be difficult to make friends, being the introverted homebody that I am. But, being the (mostly) supportive wife that I am, I procrastinated the hell out of packing our stuff and begrudgingly moved our family across the Red River.
We got settled in a house with a ton more room. I found some of the perks to living in a big city again - lots of grocery stores to choose from, disappearring into the crowd, and shopping for a new church.
Well, lo and behold, that house wasn't as perfect as we thought and as much as we wanted to, we didn't fit in at that church. It was disappointing to say the least.
That lasted a year. We were then "homeless" again at my father-in-law's home in Oklahoma. My husband would be with us on the weekends. I was trying to get into my Master's program again. We were now up to four children. We chose a place to live that was halfway between the distance of my husband's place of employment and my would-be grad school.
It turns out that the school in Dallas didn't have a space for me, but they offered up a spot in Houston. Houston was too far of a drive, so maybe next year, right?
Obviously God had other plans. Our youngest (#4) had just turned six months old when we discovered we were to be blessed with another child. Overwhelming as it was, we kept trudging on, trusting that God had bigger plans than ours. We found ourselves in a small duplex, splitting the distance between Fort Worth and Dallas, with the kids attending a very highly rated public school (such a blessing!).
I remember the first time we went to mass at the church that would change our lives. My parents had graciously come down for a visit on our anniversary so we could have a rare chance to go out for dinner with just the baby (#5) and go to a movie. We looked up Saturday Vigil Mass times close to our location (we were introducing Mom and Dad to Trader Joe's), and we found a unique church.
We felt welcomed and wanted. No one judged us for having five kids under eight years old. No one cares about how we're still renting after all these years. No one judged us for being new college graduates in our thirties.
I quickly found the mom's group and immediately felt at home. Understood. It had been years since I felt like I was at home. This was exactly what I was yearning for - beautiful women who were right there in the trenches with me. We supported each other. We prayed for each other and each other's intentions. I learned how to welcome and let myself be welcomed. I could show my weaknesses.
I'm a firm believer that there is a reason for each person you meet. It's been a little over two years that we've been members of this parish, and I'm sad that we already have to say goodbye. We are returning to that small town in Oklahoma.
As I sit here writing this, tears are streaming down my cheeks. I just received a text from another beautiful mom offering help with packing and holding the newborn (#6). It's been a very long time since I've felt this supported, this loved. I'm not at all trying to say that I don't want to move back to my homeland!! I just don't know what it is about this place. There's something special here.
You want to know something, though? I think maybe I'm that special something. Maybe opening myself up so people could see the dirty, raw, imperfect sinner that I am...maybe that is the reason I feel welcomed. They are showing me the love of Jesus, being Christlike, and I am finally paying attention to others, instead of myself. Over the years, my selfishness had placed my family in a dark place. Here, they simply welcomed me, loved me, were patient with me, just as Christ is in every moment. We taught each other, encouraged each other, and are constantly challenging each other to be better Catholics, wives, and mothers. And through this support, I've been able to let my loving Father do what He will with me. After coming back to Reconciliation and being washed of my sins, and seeing a glimpse of heaven every time I go to Mass, my eyes are more open than ever before.
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| Photo courtesy of Charlie Neuenschwander |
So here I am again, about to embark on a new journey to an old home. And I will thank God every time I remember all the beautiful souls (who happen to reside in Texas) who have helped me prepare to be a disciple of Jesus. I will miss each and every one of you!!!
May the Lord's Peace be with you always,
Your sister in Christ,
Jennifer
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