Transition is funny. I feel like we all spend our lives transitioning. Being an infant to our first days of pre-school to our leap into middle school to our dive into high school to our plummet into college or a career to our utter blind fall into full-on adulthood. A very lucky set of us choose exactly how each fall or leap will look and where it will land and manage to stay on par with that plan. Most of us, though, seem to find ourselves in mid-leap.
"Where did the time go?"
"How did I get HERE?"
"What's gonna' happen?"
I find myself asking these questions every single day. Of course, I recall very vividly how I got from my application for a Fulbright to South Africa to my decision to not apply to graduate school to my JVC interviews, acceptance, and job placement. But, how, in the grand scheme of things, did my life lead me here to a Reservation in South Dakota?
As I wrestle with the question, I find myself yearning strongly for the familiarity of college, of my old friends, of my family. It's now been over a month since I stepped onto the plane to go to orientation, and I can't seem to process what has happened in a mere month. I assumed that once the first month was behind me I would feel fully settled, into a routine. I laugh at my old self sometimes.
If anything, being a month into this experience makes me realize how much this place is not yet home. I don't know if I will ever have the right or the ability to call this place home, but I really desire to. I'm still working at finding my niche in this placement. I realize that my writing skills might be of some use, I'm getting to unleash my inner photographer (you know, because I'm super talented like that), and I have taken over parish bulletins and general web design, but I keep having this feeling that I don't have real skills to bring to the table. It's a struggle for me because I recognize that I most likely will not do any ground-breaking work while I'm here, but that doesn't mean that I don't want to be the best I can be at the humbler tasks I perform. Not having a full, solid footing yet, though, makes this placement still feel like that...a temporary placement.
I am very blessed to have a wonderful community who has supported me and welcomed me in every single moment, and the greater parish communities have welcomed the three of us with open arms. I still feel like something hasn't clicked, though. I struggle to discover what that is. In my attempts to figure it out, I've recently been playing Phil Phillips' "Home" nonstop (hence the blog title).
With all that being said, though, I recognize that this is a great place to be. I have the chance right now to explore, to take some risks, and to see what happens. There is a certain freedom that not having everything figured out presents. It allows me to try so many different things to see what I am best suited for. I have seen so many awe-inspiring sunsets, majestic animals, powerful skies, humble people, heart-wrenching pain, soul-soaring hope, and, frankly, God.
SoDak, do me a favor. Let me call you home.
P.S. if you haven't noticed, I transitioned the full blog name as well. In the simplest, totally insufficient definition, the Red Road is a Native American right way of life. It's the right path to live one's life by. As I blog and record my experiences here, I hope to get a little closer to that road.
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