Some who know me will be surprised to learn that I picked
someone up at the university’s fitness center just today. Before your imaginations run wild, let me
clarify. For a few weeks, I have noticed
a cute woman accompanying a regular exerciser who previously came in alone. Sometimes, when I passed by them, I would
hear them speaking in another language.
So, today as she was walking by my exercise post, I called to her and
started a conversation.
Making a major life change about three and a half years
ago, my husband Jim and I moved from St. Louis County where we had lived all
our lives to the Illinois prairie, Charleston, Illinois, to be
specific. Our daughter and her husband
had taken jobs at Eastern Illinois University about three years before that, relocating
from North Carolina to be closer to us and back in the Midwest for Bonnie. Henry, our first grandchild, was five then,
and he seemed happy to be seeing more of us.
My hopes for my life had been to become a teacher, marry
a man who loved me that I could love back (my simplistic prayer God so
beautifully answered), and have children.
I never thought about having a career per se; staying home with young
children was what I had planned to do.
My parents also needed my support and thoroughly enjoyed sharing time
with our young family. No matter what,
my father was always glad to see us.
Over the years, I had become a bit of a partner for him when my mother’s
mental health issues periodically became problematic. Even after I began
teaching developmental English classes at a community college and then doing
some writing, my basic identity was as a committed Christian family girl, by
choice not necessity.
Fast forward through life with grown children pursuing
advanced graduate degrees, living in ten states between the two of them in just
over five years—well, our hopes of remaining a St. Louis clan like so many of
our friends had faded. Adding to our
feeling in a rut, I began to experience at times serious but somewhat illusive
health problems, occasionally making me quite ill. After prayerful consideration and other
factors, my husband and I decided to depart St. Louis, the gateway to the West,
and begin anew nearer to both children and their families.
Making the move proved to be providential although
breaking into a connected life in Charleston has had its challenges. I could not be a part of high school friends
or lifelong friends—some groupings one just can’t qualify for. But we did bust out of that St. Louis rut. My retired coach husband loved living so
close to university athletics, riding his bike to track meets and baseball
games; he just soaked in university life, and so did I in some ways. We didn’t know being here would be the last
two years of his life, but known or not, it was a gift. He got to help coach our grandson’s baseball
team two summers and became as close to working at a university, something he
had wanted to do after retiring from teaching physical education and coaching, as he could have been.
One might wonder, what does all of this history have to
do with picking up the lady at the fitness center. Upon Jim's sudden death, my life dramatically
changed to one on my own—for the first time ever living alone—but this seemed the
obvious change I could write about for a writing prompt on that subject. But continuing to find connection
and meaning in a new and very different place remains a priority and sometimes
a challenge. It is work to seek out
fellowship and activity especially when efforts sometimes disappoint. I fully understand Jesus listing “I was a
stranger and you invited me in” in Mathew 25 when He describes who lives in true love and faith.
Today my pick-up proved very satisfying on both
ends. Roxana is from El Salvador and
joins her husband here over breaks and summers unless he heads back home. She is diligently working on her English and
was most excited when I offered to be a conversation friend. She even wanted to skype and continue our
talking after she returns to El Salvador in about two weeks. She told me her husband wants her to use English
with him, but she says their native language is more romantic. Rather cute, I thought. So I continue on, asking God’s strength and
providential guidance to make this prairie life my own. Just for the record, I never picked up
anybody. Not in my skill set.
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