Somebody that I used to know

This week I’ve been feeling out of time, out of place, and out of touch.

Saying that coming home was, and is, hard on me is an understatement.  It’s not just about leaving Mizzou; leaving my life, and the future I was very meticulously building for myself.  And it’s not entirely about living with my parents again, having minor rules to live by, and other schedules and lives in the house that conflict with mine.  It’s not even about having to learn to be independent at an accelerated rate, teaching myself adulthood as I go along, taking responsibility for things that seem far beyond my grasp. 

Coming home has been the hardest on me for all the things I left behind when I headed to Columbia.  And I mean that in neither a completely nostalgic, nor completely bitter way.  Maybe just a little bit of both. 

I dropped my little brother off at the church I used to call Home this evening and realized how I don’t really belong here anymore.  I used to feel comfortable there; I used to feel known there.  My family used to be there.  But E-Free hasn’t been my home in years. People have stopped asking for me, or about me.  Which is okay.  Because I’m supposed to be gone, like everyone else.  I’m supposed to be moving on.  Like I was doing before I had to come back.  And it’s not that I drive all these familiar streets and hate the memories that I made on all my adventures here. 

But I also remember being ready to leave it all behind.  Because the year that I left was a year of endings.  Exactly the way it needed to be.  I tied all the loose ends, and shut all the doors when I left.  Because I made a lot of mistakes that year, and I wouldn’t pass up that opportunity to walk away from everything I broke, all the bridges I burned.  I knew the people that mattered would stay in touch, but everything else could be let go. 

There was a time when this was my culture, and calling.  But now it’s just where I used to sit and talk with Mary, where my sister showed me who Jesus was for the first time, where Jake broke my heart, and Ben broke the pieces that he left.  It’s where I got drunk to forget, and dunked under water in forgiveness and mercy.  It’s where I witnessed His goodness; and forsook  His grace.  It’s where I wanted to yearn and burn for more passion, but hadn’t learned how yet.  It was a time for growing.  At one point, it was my culture and my calling.  But now I can only see it as what it used to be.

And I can’t for the life of me figure out why He’d call me back here.