I am taking a break from blogging about our Washington DC adventure, which just so happens to be winding down. We’ll be on the road again soon, making our way back to Great Plains. And I am okay with that. You see, the past couple of posts have had a general theme of reinvigoration. It truly is amazing how much more alive I feel around the hustle and bustle of a city with endless options of outdoor activities, restaurants, and museums. As much as the wide open spaces of country life appeals to my romantic side, I’m more at home among the worn pavement, tall trees, and condensed populations. I’m sure that I would eventually tire of the crowds and smaller spaces and yearn for the simple small town life again, but the beauty within the variety of landscapes that comprise our country is what makes it possible to float back and forth between them.
The blogosphere is littered with blogs about finding oneself. Some are popular. Some are abandoned. And many are authored by women trying to make sense of the life they’ve fallen into. I know the feeling. Not that I am displeased with the direction of my life – far from it. But having been together for almost 11 years, Clay and I have grown into adulthood together. And when I was 18 and sitting next to Clay on the futon in his dorm room, I never in a million years imagined our journey together would evolve into the story it has. After all, I was planning from graduating college, falling into a big city with bright lights, and living in an unrealistic apartment a’la Friends or Sex in the City (clearly I was young and naive). Instead I ended up falling in love with a soldier, moving to frozen tundra, and learning just how isolating but incredibly fulfilling this lifestyle can be. Fast forward 6 years and a couple of states later, and I am now living in southwest Oklahoma, staying at home with a two-year-old. And trying to make sense of this life that has somehow become mine over the past two decades.
I am only 29 but I think I am starting to grasp an important concept – maybe we are not meant to discover who we are. Instead, maybe we’re meant to decide who we are. And our ability to decide who we are hinges on our attitude and reaction to the curveballs we experience along the journey. I have learned that change is necessary for an exciting life. I have learned that change can hurt. And I have learned that change can be the ingredient to a life fulfilled beyond our wildest dreams. Louise May Alcott summed it up best – I am not afraid of storms, for I am learning how to sail my ship. And I am glad that Clay’s ship is right there beside mine so we weather the exciting and fearful storms together. So here’s to change. And here’s to whatever storms may be in our path – without them, we’d never be able to learn of what we’re made.