I love the dampness in the air of the South Bay Area where I grew up. I love the local donut shop, the way flowers bloom and grow so effortlessly in that perfect combination of dew and sunshine, how every street seems to carry a memory and how the city Easter Egg Hunt and 4th of July picnic is actually for the entire city.
Sacramento is massive - there are so many subdivisions that someone telling you that they also live in Sacramento could very well mean they live almost 45 minutes away.
I miss my high school friends - out of my close circle, I'm the only one who's moved away. I have some very bad, painful memories from my hometown, but memories don't really stay where you leave them anyhow and because of this, I would move back to the Bay Area in a heartbeat if I had the opportunity.
Or would I?
I live in Sacramento. We are financially okay, own our home, have our children in an exceptional school and my ministry is thriving. This would lead one to believe that It is God's will for us to be here.
Would I want to be outside of God's will? Isn't it funny how subconsciously, our response is often a resounding "yes" even though we know it would lead to our own destruction?
Of course, rationally, as I wrote in my previous blog post, I know I am meant to live in Sacramento. Sacramento is healthier for me, and since I've been in the area since college, it's honestly the only place I've ever test-driven this whole concept of being a grown up.
But still, there's that knee-jerk reaction to run toward what feels good. What feels right. What feels like it would somehow be better.
Yesterday, we were disqualified for a $10,000 grant we worked hard for. The disqualification was incredibly grey and could easily be viewed as unfair. People have said some very nice things:
You need to alert the media.
You need to contact an attorney.
How dare they do this.
How could they think you cheated/don't impact the community/count for anything?
When I found out, my heart jumped in my throat - I was surprised, saddened and fiercely protective of our ministry that works so hard and still struggles financially every month. I fired off a response email, keeping my composure, and then a few hours later I sent a text to the grant coordinator that was definitely less than Christ-like. In the flurry of my sweet defenders' opinions, I contacted whoever I thought could potentially reverse the decision.
It was unfair. Hadn't we earned it? Didn't we deserve to have something come easily for once?
Back in the Bay Area yesterday, I attended a get together for a friend that ended up feeling like I had stepped into a time machine. Everything and everyone was exactly the same, and many looked at me with a "where the heck have YOU been" expression.
There was sting after sting.
Oh, I haven't heard from you since you ran off to Sacramento to be a dancer.
You remember Tammy, right?
Um, kind of....I think so.....
The awkward fake hug. The odd realization of needing your GPS to get back to the freeway afterward because it's been so long the streets seem to have changed.
Gratefully, the guest of honor was thrilled to see me. She hugged me tightly and thanked me multiple times for driving so far. Her arms felt like the home and validation I craved. It made it possible for me to keep a smile on my face all afternoon as I drank flavored water that tasted uncomfortably like garden soil and talked about the weather approximately six separate times with various
friends -turned-acquaintances.
When you're discussing weather for more than 20 seconds, you know you've lost touch with the soul standing before you, no matter how precious they might've once been to you.
I could fight harder for the grant. I could raise absolute hell, burn bridges and drag the offending foundation through the mud.
But would that place me in the center of God's will? A place that honestly sometimes I don't desire to be because it's harder and lonelier than the alternative? Do I want to win $10,000 from a foundation that actively funds "women's rights" including abortion under any circumstance and gender reassignment? I mean, no wonder they don't like us.
Just as I felt uncomfortable at that party, I feel even more uncomfortable responding to an organization's judgment with hostility and revenge. The line between tenacity and hard-heartedness is very faint and thin.
Thus, it would seem we've been officially been disqualified from the grant. And I've been officially disqualified from my former hometown hangouts. But I haven't been disqualified from God's grace, peace and love.
I just pray that this morning I can experience it.
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