Bloom Where You're Planted

We've lived in Des Moines for almost 12 years. Five years ago, we started to feel the slow crawl of the 7-year itch beneath our skins. It was time to move. Time for a change of scenery, time to do something new. The object of our wanderlust was St. Thomas. Yes, the St. Thomas surrounded by water and bathed in sunlight. We had been there a number of times, had planned our inevitable move over many a rum punch, and 2006 was going to be the year to do it. We had already done a lot of research... talked with people who moved there and stayed, people who had moved there and moved back... we took a scouting trip where we shopped the local grocery stores, drove through residential areas, and visited an elementary school with the kids. We decided from the outset that the final decision had to be an "all-in" vote, or we would pull the plug.

The vote was not all-in, and the plug was pulled. Heartbreaking.

Since our mental mindset was already gearing toward simplifying and scaling back, we ended up doing just that in West Des Moines. We simplified, got rid of a ton of stuff, moved to a smaller house in an unpretentious neighborhood.

The restless spirit was temporarily quieted but not appeased.

After another couple years, we began looking into a move to North Carolina -- this would be nice, right? Milder winters but still a change of seasons. Mountains one direction, ocean the other. One hop from warmer waters and dive boats. Resumes have been submitted, interviews have been had, but the deal has not been closed.

And we are tired of the effort, wondering why it has been so difficult to make it happen.

We're still here. Not because we haven't tried to see what else is out there. Not because we haven't prayed for doors to open. But we're still here.

I used to have a home decoration that someone gave me a long time ago, a cute country doll holding a bouquet of flowers, with the words: "Bloom Where You're Planted." (Actually, it said "Bloom Where Your Planted," but I took a Sharpie to the glaring error.)

I'm trying to live with Bloom Where You're Planted. Sometimes seeds stay in the ground, sometimes they blow in the wind. Maybe this seed needs to stay in this dirt a little while longer.

Start Seeing

This morning, sitting at a stoplight, I noticed the bumper sticker on the car in front of me: "Start Seeing Motorcycles." I've seen variants of these bumper stickers before and, while I understand the message, the wording has always puzzled me. See motorcycles. They're not invisible. Of course we see them. But the message really is that we need to go a step beyond seeing them. We need to SEE them. As in, PROCESS the seeing of them to that next step of being aware of how we need to drive differently when one in in front of or next to us. It's not just knowing when a motorcycle is there; it's thinking about what that motorcyclist needs from us as sharers of the road.

Could it be that we also need to start seeing -- really seeing -- the people who are around us in our daily lives? I think about my husband. I see him daily when neither of us is traveling, and I talk with him almost every day when either of us is on the road. I know, in general, what he has going on at work. I know what nights he has church meetings or plays basketball. I know what TV shows he likes, because, at the end of the day when the house is quiet, we cozy down to the family room couch and watch them together. We share life. And yet, do I truly "see" him? Do I see when he needs a little extra encouragement? Do I see when he accomplishes something, and compliment him on it? Do I see when he has made great strides in an area of personal growth, and acknowledge that? And then I think about the others with whom I share life's path... children, friends, parents, coworkers... I see them, but do I SEE them?