Six years in … & staying

By the time I graduated high school, I attended a total of six schools (nine if you count three different preschools). I only moved houses once in my childhood but my school experience was far from the stable K-12.

In middle and high school, I spent my summers on service trips with an organization that partnered with long-term contacts abroad. I would meet my team and spend 24/7 with them, only to say goodbye two weeks or a month later. After creating a unique bond, we often would never see each other again.

For college, I went out of state and attended Elon University in North Carolina. During college, I spent a summer completing an internship in Nashville. After college, I moved to Chicago only knowing two people at the time.

In the last six years, I have continued to make new friends through various workplaces, church, volunteering and the ever-evolving, transient nature of living in a big city.

All of these experiences made me adaptable and easily comfortable in new environments. It has become second nature for me to quickly make new friends and continually put myself out there to build community.

What’s new to me is staying. Being committed somewhere. Investing in one place.

I decided to move to Chicago with two suitcases and a one-way ticket, with absolutely no idea for how long I’d live here (you can read about that whirlwind of an experience here).

If you had told my recent graduate self that I would still be living in Chicago six years later, I really don’t think I would have believed you. I expected myself to be here for 1-2 years and then move onto the next adventure. New cities. New experiences. New opportunities.

As I invested in my life in Chicago, it slowly became home. And perhaps a sense of rootedness I hadn’t felt before.

Now, don’t get me wrong. My first few years in Chicago were extremely difficult. Between a couple job losses and times of unemployment, I questioned whether I should move several times.

And I believe that’s why the city also holds a deeply meaningful place in my heart. Amidst the trials, losses and disappointments, I fought to stay here.

I fought for my sense of home.

After a year unlike any other, I am now watching many friends decide to find a new home. We all have seen how many life decisions have been accelerated as a result of Covid. With several friends leaving the city, I’m prepared to see a lot of those changes unfold this summer and beyond.

Each time I learn of a new friend leaving, I have mixed emotions. I genuinely am excited for them and what’s ahead. I try to express that. However, I’d be lying to say it doesn’t feel sad and unsettling for me. While living in a city is naturally transient, the realities of Covid sparked more moves than a typical year. I anticipate a lot of change with many close friends leaving, and I know it is often more difficult and sad for the ones staying.

Other friends are feeling this discomfort as well. What will our lives look like with so many friends leaving Chicago? Who will still be here? Who will I go to for support? Will I still belong here?

(Disclaimer: there is nothing wrong with choosing to move or entering into a new life change. It is wise to consider what we want and where we want to be as we prepare for what’s next. For many, the best next thing is a change. Marriage, pregnancies, moves, new jobs – we celebrate those decisions!)

But I’m writing to the person who is watching your friends move away when you’re not leaving, wondering what your sense of community will look like in the months ahead.

To the person who is watching your friends announce pregnancies when you’re struggling with infertility, wondering whether or not you will be able to create a family of your own.

To the person who is watching your friends get married when you’re not dating anyone, wondering if you will continue to live without a partner by your side.

Our twenties and thirties are transient. We constantly watch our friends move into different life stages at various times, which can often leave you wondering where you fit in. Or if you’re on the right track. Or if you are behind.

The reality is, there is no pace to keep up with, no set milestones to accomplish. Whether it’s moving into your own apartment or buying a condo, starting a new job or beginning a new hobby, hosting a birthday party or planning a wedding, attending a baby shower or fostering an animal – all of these are beautiful, special moments of life. We might just need to slow down and stop comparing so that we can celebrate one another and recognize the moments fully.

We each experience new chapters of our lives throughout our lives. It may look different than your peers, but don’t lose sight of what is happening in your own life, even when it seems like everything around you is changing.

A friend recently said to me, “the end of an era has to come in order for the adventure of a new era to begin”. I’ve been reflecting and realized how I had become more focused on others’ exciting life changes, forgetting to pay attention to what God was (and is) doing in my own life. I’ve been grieving the end rather than anticipating the new.

It’s been beneficial for me to acknowledge the change in proximity of friendships and grieve “life in Chicago as I knew it” because it is a reality I cannot ignore. However, I can hold those emotions while also feeling more anticipation for what’s ahead in my own life.

I signed a new lease for another year in Chicago and have no idea what my life will look like in a few months from now, much less a year. For this next year, I want to continue to invest and be present in my life in Chicago. While at times it feels overwhelming, it also is exciting to dream, wonder and hope.

Life is full of changing seasons, new chapters and transitions. Even though my decision to stay may feel less exciting than my friends’ decision to go, I am reminded that I am also choosing change.

Choosing to invest (and re-invest) when it’s tempting to check out.

Choosing to press in when it feels uncomfortable and overwhelming.

Choosing to stay in Chicago for another year.

Which – for me – is the adventure after all.