The shoe still fits

My cousin, who has long since graduated college, has been living in Japan for the past few years and made a trip back state side this summer to visit family and friends. We had a great visit and a little family party. She was enthusiastic about all of the stories she told us and was happy to share her life in Japan with us. 

But on the day she flew back she tweeted something along the lines of: “Being home feels like wearing a shoe that doesn’t fit anymore"

I was stunned. Coming from someone who spends a lot of their time being homesick, I can't imagine having my home not "fit" me. What does it even mean when your home doesn't "fit" you? Even worse, this made me worry. Since I've gone to college, have I grown out of the "shoe"? 

I got to think more about this when I  went home this past weekend. Even though a lot of things were the same, things had changed. Specifically, my friend (let’s call him David) was super into my other friend (let’s call her Abby). I was oblivious to this, but this weekend when a group of us went out to brunch, someone let it slip that David wanted to tell Abby how he felt about her. 

When my friends first told me, I was mad. Apparently David liking Abby was old news, everyone else at the table already knew. No one Skyped me and gave me a heads up, no one shot me a text message alerting me of the budding romance. It felt like everyone was on one page, and I was a chapter behind. In actuality, this was not too big of a deal, but the thought of being left out of something was very upsetting. 

But when David started to answer my millions of questions, he got a smile on his face when he talked about Abby that made me want to cry. Truth be told, I did shed a few tears in the middle of Egg Harbor Café. Because of his honesty, my selfish feelings of “being left out” quickly disappeared. I immediately threw my self back into his life by asking and listening and offering advice.

Post-brunch group hug 

After we left the café, another friend and I spent a solid 40 minutes with David standing in the middle of Jewel obsessing over what flowers he should by her, or what balloon Abby would like. We ran through exactly how he was going to tell her how he felt while we loitered in the bakery aisle and talked about how we had seen God recently in the produce section.  

The whole thing ended with us ditching the flowers and balloons and David just showing up at Abby's door. The call I got from David afterwards was priceless, and as I hung up I couldn't stop thinking about how lucky I was that I got to witness the days events.

Nothing particularly life changing happened to me when I went home this weekend. But I did realize the significance of being involved in the lives of people I love. Getting to hear it straight from his mouth, or seeing the look on her face beats a Facebook message or a phone call anytime. Being present, being in the moment, crying in the middle of Egg Harbor Café, or arguing about which flowers to buy in front of the display at Jewel, taking the time to say “I’m so proud of you”: these tiny moments add up a to a life.  These moments are what foster community. These moments are what I treasure from friendships.

Going to college in another state, I might not know what happening in the minute-by-minute happenings of my friend’s lives. The truth is that some of the time, I will be the last to know. I won't always be filled in on the details ASAP. But when I come home, I know that by witnessing their triumphs and successes, as well as their failures and heartbreaks. I get to add up all these pieces of life that I get to see and the small moments become something much bigger. I'm building my life up to be more that just a collection of long distance, inauthentic relationships.  It takes days like these to remind me that community is real, and worthy of my time and emotional investment. And for that, I am so thankful.

Knowing all of this I can rest easy that my home is still my home. My home is not just a shoe that I'll some day out grow. Even though I'm growing and changing and the people I love are growing and changing, there's still something there that holds us together. Between the miles and important life events and college campuses and state lines that will keep us apart, there is love and compassion that bridges the gap. 

And because of that, the shoe still fits. 

________

Thanks for listening,

Emily