The uncomfortable nest

There was a time in my life when coming home brought the greatest degree of comfort and consolation. In fact, I remember being homesick and being in tears on the bus to science camp in the sixth grade. I also recall how hard it was the first time I was away from my family when I went to boy scout camp for seven days. I hope this is a surprise to you readers, but I even remember being in tears some nights when the thought of my parents being gone to Uruguay for two weeks on a mission trip in 1999 came to my mind because I would be away from them. Maybe a lot of it was due to adolescence and the emotional roller coasters one often rides during that time or maybe I just had a good family life and didn't feel the urge to get away from them.

Fast forward ten years and here I am at 23, on the eve of my departure for life in a foreign country and a completely new culture. I wouldn't have imagined even two years ago that I would be doing something like this after graduating college. The amount of time being away from home and friends and family would have been a major deterrent to me pursuing such a path. It's interesting how the Lord works things out in your life that you would never see coming or plan by yourself. As I look back over the last two and a half years when I first left home to finish my junior and senior years of college I see how my home became less like home both purposefully and incidentally.

After being home now for two weeks in a new house where I no longer even have a room to claim as my own I feel like a stranger in many ways. I have been sleeping on the floor in our living room with the other three rooms occupied by my brother, sister, and parents. The kitchen is rearranged differently so I find myself opening and closing every drawer and cabinet trying to find a spoon and bowl to eat cereal. But beyond the foreigness of the layout of the house, my mom is the humorous and influential factor making this "nest" progressively more uncomfortable.

Throughout this short break my mom has lamented the fact that I don't know where to find anything in the and how I have "made a mess of the whole house". I consider myself a pretty clean guy and if I was grading my cleanliness on the curve for people my age I'd be in the B+-A range. My mom has even confessed to being neurotic and and obsessive compulsive about cleanliness but this confession hasn't curbed her intensity. Those of you who know me willl understand this grievance: my appetite. Mom has consistently expressed her frustration with how much I eat (she may have a legitimate case) and how much she has had to spend on food since my sister and (mostly) I have been home. My best defense has been: "come on mom I'm only here for a few more days". This plea has also not aleviated the grief I've gotten.

All this to say that what I've taken from all this is that its the right time to go. Don't get me wrong I have had an awesome time with the family and wouldn't trade this short break for anything. But I realize that whether my parents have consciously or subconsciously tried to encourage me to move out I have made the realization that living on my own away from home is the right thing. Despite some of the annoyance that it brings, I've given to thought to how unhealthy it would be if the converse were true and home was too welcoming and comfortable. The likely consequence would be that I might be hesitant to do something like the Journeyman program. So I guess I have to say thanks to mom for indirectly inspiring me to pursue a path outside the four walls I'm in right now.