Dan Lugo posted recently about the "unsettled" feeling of transition that has once again creeped into his life. I, too, have experienced this feeling of transience lately: actually, for the past seven years I have known nothing besides transition. The encroaching days ahead are different. For the first time in my adult life, I am seeking after a long term job. We are planning a move to Westmont IL for a minimum of five years. We are looking to plant roots in this community, where we will slowly and humbly begin weaving our lives and our children's lives together with those of our neighbors. This time, the transition is not a rest stop, but a long-term planting.
The constant moving and transience that have marked the last seven years of my life will give way to planting roots and sinking in. As I write this, I am sitting at "Brewed Awakening" coffee shop in Westmont, IL, where every customer thus far has known every other customer (besides me, of course). The employees have known the desired drinks of these customers before ordering. Two men are seated at a six-top table next to mine, discussing everything relevant and important - from the Blackhawks to the Arizona law. No less than four people have joined them at that table throughout my time here. The tables are non-uniform: some graced with lamps, and others with National Geographic magazines; the walls are covered with local artwork (including a collection of children's drawings); the bookshelf in the corner is filled with an eclectic collection of coffee beans, mugs, trashy fiction novels, and chess boards.
The constant moving - always looking forward to something more exciting and different - has finally lost its appeal. As seminary education wraps up in the next six weeks, I am aware that the future is just as exciting as it has always been, but for different reasons: I'm excited that we are not left alone to raise our children, but can rely on a community. I'm excited to regularly share meals with friends and strangers. I'm excited to be somewhere long enough to have experiences worthy of great celebration and great mourning.