Home

Nutella.
Chai tea.
My own room.
A stick-shift pick-up.
Friends.
High school mentors.
Cranberry juice.
Hugs.
Country roads.
Rain.
Cows.
A country church.
Family.
A full-stocked kitchen.
Washer and dryer that I can use for free.
Skype.
Chile verde.
BBQ.
Irish soda bread.
Johnny Cash.
A sewing machine.
Almonds.
Long talks.

I've missed Bakersfield more than I thought.

Home Is Where the Heart Is

I have written about how Biola feels more like "home" to me than my parents' house. Today I found another place that feels like home: my old high school, Bakersfield Christian High School. When I went back to visit today, I felt like I had come home.

Mr. Sutherland asked me to come today and speak to his classes on college, the importance of philosophy, and stuff like that, and I was more than excited for an excuse to spend the day at my old high school talking about how much I love college.

While I was there, I was reminded of the impact the people of this school had on me. The teachers loved me while I was a student, and still love me now. They are excited that I am excited, and they are proud of me as I am doing well in college, almost like parents are proud of their kids when they "go off into the world" and succeed. These are the people who saw me grow during high school, an intense time for me. Moreover, these are the people who helped me through the rough times of high school, served as role models for me, and encouraged me to apply for Torrey. When I saw them smile when I walked into their classrooms, joy welled up in me. It felt like I was coming home.

At the same time, it was weird walking onto a campus where I was no longer a student. I saw things from a new perspective. For one, the high school seems smaller to me. When I was a freshman in high school, the school seemed huge. Now I've outgrown it. I also saw my teachers from a different perspective. I saw that they love their job, but more importantly they love the kids. Since it's been six months since I sat in a high school classroom, I got to see how the teachers love being around their kids and want them to succeed and learn. I got to see Mr. Adams smile as his students got excited about the next chapter of The Giver. I got to see Mr. Sutherland's love for philosophy and his desire to pass it on to his students. I was reminded what made me love them as teachers, mentors, and friends.

It was also great to see my friends from high school who are now juniors or seniors. I had not thought so many people would want to see me again, but I was reminded that friendship is not easily forgotten.

I got to see friends who I had graduated with. Although I haven't been at college with any of them, seeing them was like a breath of fresh air. These are the people who have known me for four and a half years and remember what I was like when I was a freshman in high school. And they loved me anyway.

Even though it has been a long time since I've seen a lot of these people, they remain in my heart. Keeping in touch over Facebook just isn't the same. Part of my heart remains at BCHS. It's a place I feel safe, it's a place where there are people I love, and it's a place where I grew tremendously.

A Weird Feeling

On New Year's Eve, I went shot-gun shooting with my dad and my brother and a bunch of Boy Scouts. I came back home and took a two-and-a-half-hour nap. Then I crashed an hour before midnight and slept for nine straight hours. I haven't slept that much since I got sick right around mid-terms. And I wasn't even doing anything hard or exhausting. In fact, an average day at Biola crams in more activity than I've done in the last two weeks.

I have a weird feeling of being refreshed because I've had time to rest, yet feeling useless because I haven't been doing much of anything lately. Then I see my friends who are taking interterm classes, working, or making progress on next semester's reading, and then I look at myself. I have done pretty much nothing. I feel lazy and a bit ridiculous sitting at home, or thrift store shopping instead of working.

I also have a weird mix of wanting to go back to Biola, but at the same time dreading going back (or at least dreading registration). I desperately want to see my friends. But, I'm worried about working out the details with paying tuition and making a decision about my major.

Then, I'm feeling relieved to be home, where I have my own room, a kitchen to cook in, time to watch movies, parents who will buy food and other things for me, a car, a ranch in the country to visit, and a church full of people who have watched me grow up. At the same time, being home makes me frustrated and angry when I see my dad get angry, or make snide remarks to me or my brother, or embarrass me in front of my entire church. Or when I see my mom struggling to walk. Or when my brother has a strange mix of cockiness and apathy and I'm not sure what to do with him and my temper gets the better of me.

Part of me feels like I belong here, in the house I have lived in all my life, where I constantly run across reminders of my childhood, what I once loved to do, my joys when I was a kid. I found tons of pictures from my childhood while I was looking for pictures for my brother's Eagle Scout Court of Honor. I found pictures of me and him playing together, riding a rocking horse, playing dress-up, and helping my dad. I found pictures of myself: dressed up like a pioneer girl, reading a book, playing or posing with my friends. These pictures remind me of my past, who I was, who I am. My past (and my home) will always be a part of me...yet while I have this new-found appreciation of my past and my childhood, I feel like I don't belong here. I keep remembering that I will be moving back to Biola in a few weeks, and I am excited to plan what my dorm room will look like next semester. I feel comfortable enough at home, that I might actually miss it when I move back to Biola.

Part of me wants to dream, imagine, and wish for the future, while another part of me is afraid of the future and knows that my imaginings won't work out the way I wish. Instead, problems will arise, and I will be disappointed.

And all mixed in with this, I have a strange desire to hide from God, forget about Him, and take a break from Him...yet at the same time, I long to rest in His love and the knowledge that He has a plan for my life, and it's better than I can imagine. In almost every area of my life, I feel pulled in two directions: two responses to God, two homes, two views of my past and my family, two views of my future. It leaves me at a stalemate, so to speak. In so many areas, I don't know what to do or where to go or how to act, so I do nothing. I need courage to act, courage to keep going when I'm afraid, courage to make a decision, courage to do the right thing. And as I write this, the words from Joshua that seem to keep turning up run through my mind: "Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid, for the LORD your God is with you wherever you go."

Going "Home"

One of my friends posted as his Facebook status something along the lines of:

"If home is where the heart is, then I'm leaving half of my heart behind."

Exactly how I feel. I'm sitting in my ridiculously clean dorm room waiting for my dad to come pick me up. My heart aches. I don't want to go. I'm torn between two homes. I love Biola and I want to stay, but it is quite obvious that I can't (they're officially kicking me out in five and a half hours). But I don't quite want to go home yet...I was there three weeks ago, and I don't miss it...but I do. It's a weird sensation. I want to be "at home"...just maybe not my "home."

It's more stressful than I care to deal with. I kind of like being the "independent" woman that I am, and I'm not sure if I'm ready to go back home and become the daughter I'm supposed to be. In my parents' eyes, I'm either perpetually younger than I really am, or significantly older. They either expect me to always be available and at home like I was when I was younger, liking the same things, being the same person I was when I was 12. At the same time, they expect me to be more grown up. To not be a kid anymore and always be hard at work in some form. That isn't who I am. I don't think they know who I am anymore. They don't understand college culture and how it has shaped me. They don't understand what I have been learning and how it has affected me...because they know the Siobhan of the past, not the Siobhan of the present. My friends here know me and understand me better than I know or understand myself. They know the struggles I have had with my major, my heart, my feeling of belonging, my definition of "home." They know my hopes and dreams, what angers me, how much I love hugs and hot tea. They know my little quirks, like my sassy remarks, but they love me and accept me anyway. They know I'm indecisive about my major, but they don't judge me for it.

It's going to be a struggle to adjust. A struggle to feel comfortable at home again. A struggle to feel loved in a different way. My family doesn't show love the way Quadratus and my Biola friends show their love, and I have to get used to that type of love again. I have to learn to feel safe in somewhere that isn't Biola. I have to learn to be around a family again. More accurately, I have to remember how to act around my parents. Remember to be sensitive to certain things and not mention certain things. I have to teach my body to wake up earlier and go to bed earlier than I'm used to doing in college. I have to condition my mind and heart to deal with someone who has limited mobility and is often in a lot of pain. I have to learn once again to read my father's emotions so I know when it is a good time to approach him and when doing so will cause strain in my family. I have to learn to cover my emotions in a way that I am not used to doing around my Torrey group and my close friends here. I have to learn to keep my mouth shut and "do as I'm told" to a degree that I have not had to for the months I've been at Biola. I have to become the eldest daughter figure again, and to be honest, I don't want to.

My Longing for "Home"

I'm not exactly sure how to classify how I'm feeling. Maybe it's homesickness. But I'm not sure. I love my family and I miss them like just about every college student. But my desire isn't really for home. The last time I was home I felt somewhat like a stranger in my own home. I was living out of a suitcase in my own room because most of my stuff was still in my dorm at Biola. My dorm room sort of feels like home now. I feel comfortable there, and I belong there. When I go home for the weekend, I miss Biola, my Biola friends, and even my comfortable little "corner of paradise" known to most as room 326 in Sigma Chi.

But there's a longing in me for other things of home. I miss the country. I miss cruising through the country with my windows rolled down, blasting praise songs and singing at the top of my lungs. I miss driving through Oildale blasting "Singin' With the Saints" by the Gaithers. I miss having a stick-shift pick-up at my disposal. I miss being able to see the stars. I miss my little country church with its church potlucks, wonderful little munchkins, and all the love and old hymns that abound there. I miss being able to shoot a shot-gun. I miss being a country girl. I'm listening to "Church in the Wildwood" sung by Andy Griffith, and it pricks a pain in my heart for all things country.

I miss my friends from high school. My friends who are in Bakersfield and all over the world. My friends who call me "Cinnabon." My friends who remember what I was like during my freshman year of high school and can look at me now and see how God works to change hearts. My friends who know that the only reason I am a sociology major is because God has changed me and my heart.

Don't get me wrong...I love Biola. It's a dream come true in so many ways. I still stop myself as I'm walking to class and remind myself that I am really truly a student at Biola. I look at my Torrey group and cannot figure out how I am so blessed to get to know these people. I sit in a lecture about Plato given by Dr. Reynolds and know that I am getting a top-notch education, and I could not wish for better. I make eye contact with Elizabeth and know that God put the two of us together as friends for a reason because we struggle with the same things, laugh at the same things, and find joy in many of the same things.

Despite these wonderful blessings at Biola, I will never be a SoCal girl at heart. My heart belongs in the country with clear blue skies, cowboy boots, Levi jeans, handmade flowered skirts, country music, dirt roads, pick-ups, bonfires on New Years Eve, and good home-cooked country chili with cornbread. I'm a little country girl who is ready to rock the world, as the song by Brooks and Dunn says.