From Boston to Dallas

I have been in Dallas for a little more than a month now. Periodic images of Boston pierce my mind’s eye, especially during a dull moment: the view of my street in the spring sunshine and green trees, with the children from the German family who lived next to us jumping on the trampoline; The walk to school, over the busy bridge connecting Lower Allston to the intersection of Harvard Ave. and Cambridge Streets. Copley Square, on a chilly winter’s day, headed to the public library. The School of Theology library during midterms, students poring over books and furiously typing papers with earphones keeping them company.

I could name dozens more snapshots. And even fewer times than these images float into my brain, I forget in fleeting moments that I’m not going back. I’m not in Dallas for an extended stay- say, through the summer. I won’t be going back to class in the fall, figuring out semester schedules of class and work for what would be the 7th consecutive time.

Dallas is home now. I know this. It feels right. I have a job here. I have family here. But it’s like my body, my muscle memory, has to catch up to my mind’s adaptation to a new and yet so familiar a place.

It’s funny how places sink into us-- their land (even if not particularly special or attractive), their people, and the habits and patterns we sink into in the places we live become so thoroughly ingrained in who we are and how we live, for better or worse.

I heard a good friend of mine say that she felt ready to take responsibility for the place she came from (she had moved far away from her hometown some years ago); to take responsibility for her part in the family systems she had fled from. Depending on circumstance, it may not be appropriate for people who have experienced trauma in a particular place or even in a family context to return to such a place. But I resonated with her words. They gave me some clarity around my return to Texas, the place that raised me. It also reminded me that there is work to do and the potential for meaningful relationships everywhere.

As I begin a new job, continue my road in ministry, and lay down some roots with my partner in Dallas, I hope to learn the soul and the soil of this place where I spent the first 18 years of my life--its histories, struggles, hopes, and its realities. Land can be used to empower and to oppress--Dallas is no different in that respect. I hope to continue learning about how land shapes a people, and vice versa--and to be grounded in my own family’s relationship to this particular place.

I will continue processing all that Boston taught me and gave me as I move forward--and for that I am also grateful.