Three months ago, I moved over 1,000 miles away from home. The closest people in my life are scattered over the country in six different states, three different time zones, with up to 2,716 miles in between us. Six months ago, these same people were within a four-block radius. To say it has been an adjustment is an understatement. Thankfully, snail mail and Google Hangouts have came to the rescue and at times made the distance seem to be smaller.
Lately, I have been homesick. But, not necessarily for my home in St. Louis. Don’t get me wrong, I have been missing the good ole 314 area and my family like crazy, but I was gone from home for the past four years. I got used to not seeing my ‘rents all the time. Now, I am homesick from my second home in Kansas City: Rockhurst. I am Rock sick. I have a bell tower shaped hole in my heart, and the past few weeks I have really been feeling it. You see, I already knew this, but Rockhurst is not like most universities. Rockhurst became my home. The people I had the pleasure of meeting and seeing daily became my family. The people who challenged me in ways I never expected. The people who are my confidants, my support system, my best friends. The people I could depend on, laugh with, cry with, and the people who were always up for an adventure. These are my people. Rockhurst is the place where everyone knows everyone. Rockhurst is the place I would stop in my advisor’s office if I was ever feeling tired and could grab a cup of coffee from their never-ending coffee pot. Rockhurst is the place where I text one of the staff members when something really crazy happens in a show we both love. Rockhurst is the place where a professor once FaceTimed a student to see where he was when he wasn’t in class. Rockhurst is 10:10 mass where collectively we can come together during the week in case we need a little pick me up or a little help from the Big Guy to destress. Rockhurst is the place where tardiness was usually because you did not account stopping several times to talk with people making your less than five minute walk to class triple in length. Rockhurst is (or, was–still haven’t let that go) the place with the world’s best twisters. Rockhurst is where if you don’t lock yourself away on the third floor, the library means equal parts work and play. Rockhurst is the place where the president of the university attends every single event held on or off campus. Even on the day he was taking his vows to become a Jesuit and enter into the Society of Jesus. Now, if that doesn’t speak volumes, I don’t know what does. This is what Rockhurst is. Honestly though, how can I keep from singing? Selfishly, I wish everyone I love could be as close as we were those short six months ago. However, I am watching the next chapters unfold in their lives, and I could not be more proud. Sean and Becca are both blessing the world with their grace and compassion through JVC. Matt and Alan are giving their talents back teaching through ASC. Sara is using her creative talents both at work and to have fun taking classes at Second City. Lynsey is still in the trenches with me in grad school working on her doctorate. I could go on forever. We are all creating our own stories, and for right now, our stories are taking us to very different places. While I miss you all more than words can say, Father Greg Boyle reminds us that in this very minute, we are exactly where we are supposed to be. So, for God’s sake, don’t move. Now, here in Jacksonville, it is different. Not a bad different, but different nonetheless. I miss my Rockhurst bubble. I find myself being grateful that I was able to attend Rockhurst on a nearly daily basis in graduate school. I am utilizing what the university taught me through its curriculum, through its core values, through its faculty and staff, through my friendships, and through countless interactions that I didn’t even realize were teaching me daily. Also, in regards to Jacksonville, I really do love it here! I’m not living in the past of my Rockhurst days. Promise. I will always be intentional about living in the present. It’s just that lately, I’ve been missing the Nest a little extra. I don’t think the bell tower shaped hole will ever be gone from my heart, and I am okay with that. It is helping to give me an ugly heart. That’s the goal, remember. Also, I am thankful that I have something to miss that completely. However, I know that right now, Jacksonville is where my story is taking me. So, I have to remember: don’t move. Enjoy now. Be present. This is where I am supposed to be. And for all those still at Rockhurst, whether you are a freshman just starting your adventure or seniors about to enter your last semester, the Nest is where you are supposed to be right now. Do not wish time away, it flies fast enough without that. Do not take if for granted. And for God’s sake, don’t move. Always, Molly
0 Comments
|
AuthorJust a twenty-something attempting to create the illusion that I have a clue what's going on... Archives
May 2017
Categories |