Hear the Signs and Know They're Speaking to You (p.II)

When I was a kid my family attended Berean Bible Church. 

It was a charming little church nestled in a residential neighborhood, tucked behind Roger's Department Store.  I spent most of my time there running around the basement, stealing cookies and punch from the adults' post-service refreshments served in the gym. 

Berean is where I met some of my best friends, and where I learned to regard missionaries higher than TV stars.  I'm telling you, I was always awe-struck during the missions conferences when people like Sandra and Subash Muthayala would come from India, or the Vintons from Tanzania, and they would share their adventures.  I was mesmorized by photographs of children with huge gleaming smiles set against their gorgeous dark skin and brightly colored togas.  The missionaries would share bizarre foods with us, like curry and vegamite and this weird foreign sugar cane soda.  The Missions Conference was the highlight of my life as a kid.

Berean also worked closely with Grace Bible College.  As I got older, I would attend Sunday School in their classrooms, afterglows in their athletic center, and banquets in their reception hall.  My mom is a GBC alum, and my brother Jon is almost.  Despite having never been a GBC Tiger, I still feel somewhat of a connection to the school.  It represents home for me.  The major parts of my childhood are in some way associated with the tiny conservative college.

Imagine my surprise last night as I was commuting from work to my apartment when I found myself stuck in traffic behind one the GBC vans.  I imagine it was one of their athletic teams traveling back to Grand Rapids.  Memories of lock-ins, Women's banquets, and church picnics washed over me.  I know it sounds silly, but I was suddenly drenched in this sense of peace.  I stared at the logo on the back of the van, its different than the one I remember as a kid, but it was still a beacon just the same.

It's moments like that when you know God is at work and he is throwing you little reminders that he is doing what is best for you. 

In my case he is providing a way home.

And my Heart turns violently inside my chest...

A couple of weeks ago I went home to Grand Rapids to take in the magic of autumn in West Michigan.  G, A, and I ventured out to Robinette's for cider, donuts, pumpkins, and wine tasting.  We wanted to tackle all of the fall cliches in one day.

G and A

Several hours later, still sloshing with cider and shaking crumbs of cinnamon sugar off of our clothes, we found ourselves sitting around G's dining room table (fun fact: Once upon a time the Gambles had the same table as the Grotenhuises do).*  Another A had joined our ranks and for the first time in a very long time I was at peace.  We sat there, making stupid jokes and chastizing one another for ditzy comments or absurd proclamations ("Eat your WORDS!"-G to A for no real reason).

I had left home, expecting to experience the glamor and excitement of Chicago.

In all honesty, I thought the girls around that table were far more glamorous than anyone I had shared the red line with in the last two months.  I was more excited at the prospect of hitting up a family friendly apple orchard than I get about wandering around the Loop.

My brother recently blogged that there are places that are great to visit and there are places that are great to live in.  He is absolutely right.  There are hundreds of thousands of people that love living in Chicago.  W is one of them, God bless her, but for me, this move has been largely disappointing.  I am currently doing everything within my power to move back to Michigan.

I can still see how Chicago can feel like home... for other people.  It has everything anyone could need, but for me, I need to be back in my Michigan cocoon.  It doesn't have my friends (save for W), my family, or my heart.  It is all too easy to get lost in a city like Chicago.  Here, one person doesn't matter unless they have millions and are starting their own TV network (looking at you Oprah!).  Grand Rapids is undergoing a major revitalization.  I can contribute to that.  I want to contribute to that.  I miss open roads, stars, crack fries, and even awkward patriotic salutes at Mojo's.

I have spent more time in prayer over the last two months than I probably ever have in my life.  If nothing else, I have learned to really value my relationship with God throughout this transition.  I lost the comforts of home that blinded me to how much I need to rely on God.  Moving here stripped away all of the distractions I had at home.  I know that that seems counterintuitive, but its true.  I lost my comforts and my routines.  I learned to rely on God's peace, and on his providence. 

God is good.

I am coming home.