Sunday, November 4, 2012

Can't Take the Country Out of the Girl

Lately, I've been missing the farm where I grew up. I haven't lived there officially in four years, but it was my home for 10. The farm I lived on before that was the same farm I came home from the hospital to and stayed until I was 8. So for the first 18 or so years of my life, I could look out my window and see wide open spaces for miles.

When I was a kid, it used to bother me that I couldn't walk to a friends' house like my city friends did, or that I could only use my rollerblades on our little concrete slab, since the road wasn't paved. The time I most resented living in the country is after the snow thawed. All my friends would tell me about how they spent the snow days together playing. I just had to play with my lame older brother and our dog.

Looking back, even the things I resented about my rural upbringing were pretty awesome things for a kid like me. I got to really enjoy spending time with my friends because it was a special treat to be together. If I got mad at one of them, we had to learn to work it out because there was no leaving wherever we were.

I may not have to gotten to rollerblade as much as I wanted, but I got pretty good at riding my bike in the sand, and I also cherished walking on the dirt road, in the turn row or out in the pasture. It became important to me to go out by myself and explore nature.

Even snow days were awesome. Mom usually cooked something warm and delicious, bundled us up and sometimes went out to play with us. My brother wasn't as lame looking back as I thought. We had a great time together most days. Although, we fought all the time and I never would have admitted to myself as a kid, he really was the best friend I had growing up.

With all these warm fuzzy memories, you would think it was my childhood I was missing, and you may well be right. But what I've been missing lately is not limited to the simplicity of my childhood or even the amazing family who raised me, it's the land as well.

It's not that I want to live on that red clay again. The wonderful life my parents, their parents and several previous generations live or lived is not mine or my husband's ambition. We are seeking a different path that suits our talents the same way farming fits my parents. I'm happy with this path. It's the one we chose for our life, and I'm passionate about it.

I just like to, from time to time, get back to that place where I can take a walk and not be seen by numerous neighbors, surrounded by their houses, cars, and other technology. I want to feel alone with nature, not just anonymous in a sea of people. The open land is where, on this earth, I can best reconnect with myself. When I'm out in a pasture or a cotton field, I can think clearly and understand how I'm connected to the universe.

Right now, school is nearing a close, and the final push of effort will determine my success or failure. My wonderful husband and I are navigating our roles in each other's lives and the professional world. And, I find that in this time of exciting transition and stress, I look for the comfort of sitting in the shade of a mesquite grove, red clay on my shoes, and a warm southern wind blowing through the prairie grass and cactus leaves.

This is not to say that I'm unhappy, or will not be perfectly content in my current state for the rest of my life, if need be. I am, truly, incredibly blessed.

But, like any person, city or country raised, there are things in our pasts that help define who we are for better or worse. Sometimes reconnecting with those parts of our pasts helps us to move forward.

Fortunate for me, (Lord willing) Thanksgiving is coming, bringing it with it an opportunity to set my feet back on the red soil that sticks to my heart long after it's gone from the souls of my shoes. I'll be thanking God then as now for the beautiful earth he's given us, and the land the Smiths have called home.

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