I started this blog while in college and filled it primarily with talks I gave during that time. Those four years were a time of immense growth and transformation in the way I saw and thought about God. My life has changed quite a bit since those years — I have graduated, gotten married, moved to Utah, and now have two young children. I return here today because while so much has changed, I still relate to the original goals of this blog, and find myself craving the chance to reflect on the ways my life and understanding have changed.
California had offered me a social and religious experience that fit my extraverted and lightly academic interests like a dream. I went to church with authors, CEOs, and tech thought-leaders who brought their incredible expertise to our everyday pulpit. I craved extra meetings and watched enthusiastically for extra firesides I could attend. In addition to loving it, I had the blessing of being well-included, and during my time in a singles ward, I almost always had a calling that made me a part of the ward council. Once when Elder Bednar came for a Fireside I was asked to conduct — and had an experience of feeling extra special even there. In all these experiences, I was naive enough to believe it was me that was special, instead of seeing the uniqueness of the moment in time and place I was blessed to experience.
Our move to Utah was a God-closed-the-doors-but-opened-a-window kind of experience, so I expected the move to be "right" — where "right" would involve a clear sense of betterment over our previous life. It turned out to be more complicated than that. It was better in that we were able to afford a home before a global pandemic and to be near family and affordable childcare when we started having kids — blessings that can't be overstated. But for my spirit, my new chapter felt worse.
Moving away stripped me of those things that made me feel unique and special, and pushed me into an environment that made me feel astonishingly average. I found myself a homeowner in a neighborhood where, on the surface, no one was interested in going deeper than the classic church manual, our stake covers too small a corner of the earth to warrant fireside chats from authors and scholars, and most everyone had family commitments on Sunday with no additional time for new friends. I wasn't prepared for the onus of my spiritual experience falling on my shoulders alone, and felt both spiritually and socially lost.
Truthfully, I felt that way for a long time, and sometimes continue to even all these years later. But I also have an increased appreciation for the time-old wisdom that asks us to bloom where we are planted. I'm the only one responsible for my connection with God, for my availability to connect with others, and for the anxiety I too often let into my heart. I want to be the person that seeks the silver linings in this rigorous and challenging life we all live, and I re-open this blog today in that effort. You'll find me here sharing my journey, and I hope I'll get to learn a bit about yours too.
More to come.
Love,
Chloe
No comments:
Post a Comment