Reason #144

I grew up in a small town. A town full of really wonderful people. My mom grew up in this town and my grandmother grew up in this town, so my family has a history there. And I love getting to go back home and visit. Of course, my hometown is only thirty minutes away from where I now live, but that half an hour really makes a difference.

I had an exceptionally wonderful church home growing up. A church full of incredibly loving people. People who have watched me grow over the years, people who have made an impact on my life, people who give the best hugs every time they see me. Caring people who have invested in my life. And after I moved away, I would go back quite often on Sundays to visit. I loved getting to be in my home church, sitting in the same pew my family has sat in for years. It’s the Baptist way. You pick your spot and everyone knows that’s where you sit. That way, if you skip church, they can tell. (And I’m only kidding when I say that… sort of.) Often times I would go back home on Sundays to sing in church. I pretty much took any excuse I could to get myself 30 minutes down the road to the place where I will always call home. I think one of the best things about growing up in a small town is that you really get to know a lot of people. And every time you see those people, they give you big hugs, have a conversation with you, and you share that common ground of being from the same place, knowing the same people. The comfort and familiarity is always so refreshing.

I haven’t been home in 10 months. I have avoided every opportunity to go back home and have made excuses to keep myself away. In fact, I even took the liberty of deleting my Facebook for quite some time so that I could hide my situation as much as possible. Because for months I lived in shame, and I would be lying if I said I still don’t deal with that feeling every now and then. See, being from a small town meant a lot of people knew me. And not only did they know me, they knew my whole family. I had reputation, my family had a reputation and I was pretty sure my circumstances had successfully brought shame to the family name. Fortunately for me, my parents and I now live in the same town, but my mom still drives 30 minutes over to work every day. My grandparents still live there, go to church there, and few are the people who don’t know them. So I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t go home. I couldn’t tell people what had happened. I figured they would be so disappointed in me. For the first time in my life, I had failed and it was now public record. So public that it was even printed in the newspaper. That’s right, on display for all subscribers to read with their own eyes. There was no way I could keep this a secret. I felt like a big scarlet D was painted on my chest, and I would now be the town story. The one everyone would talk about. And would they know the truth? Would they tell the truth even if they knew it? Would my story get spun into a million different directions? I secretly wondered if some were glad to see me fail. Glad that things weren’t working out well for me. I couldn’t bear to show my face, and I just hoped that I didn’t run into anyone I knew because then they’d ask, I’d have to explain, and they would look at me with shocked eyes not knowing what to say. It was awkward for me and awkward for them because no one expected this. No one would have imagined this in a million years.

And the shocking truth is, many of them still don’t know. To my surprise, not many people talked about it. And those who knew kept it their little secret, too. But I started to see people. Thirty minutes really isn’t that long of a distance. Those hometown friends spend a lot of time in my new town. They come to shop, to eat, to go to the doctor and you’d think that in a town of 230,000 people, the chances of crossing paths would be slim to none. Well, for a while I did a good job of ducking and turning the other way. For a while, I avoided eye contact and pretended to be oblivious. And I hated it because I love these people. I get excited when I see people I know and I want to hug them. I didn’t want to hide my face in shame, rather, I wanted to say hi and see how life was treating them like I normally would. So I slowly started doing it. I started swallowing my fear and just praying that they already knew. Hoping they wouldn’t ask. And I began to notice that when I saw them, they hugged me differently, but it was a good different. They looked at me with eyes of compassion. Some times, they looked at me with tear-filled eyes. And they never asked, they never made mention of it. They didn’t treat me like a leper or cast judgment in the least. These people loved me like they always had. And they knew. Without saying words, I knew that they knew and I was grateful for that.

I’ve well learned that you never know who is watching you, and you can rest assured that you will run into someone who knows you when you’re least expecting it. Last week, as I was boarding the plane in Austin when I heard someone call my name. I looked over to see a sweet lady from my hometown, and it just so happened that the seat next to her was vacant. I hadn’t seen her in about a year and it was so refreshing to be in her presence for the hour long flight. We had a light-hearted conversation, and her comforting, familiar smile made me long to go back home just a little bit. And the other night, on yet another walk, a maroon SUV was approaching and started to slow down. I couldn’t see who was in the car, and as the windows began to roll down I got a little nervous. To my delight, my favorite set of twins from my hometown were anxiously waving and calling my name. Two of the most beautiful, fun girls I know. In fact, they are so fabulous that we adopted each other as cousins long ago. I hadn’t seen them in well over a year either and my heart was so excited as they jumped out of the car and gave me two big hugs! We talked for a few minutes and they were so sweet and encouraging. They didn’t ask questions, they didn’t treat me differently, nope, they just loved on me like old times. Another little refreshing taste of home.

I tend to forget that to these people, I’m still Brittnye. I’m still the same girl they watched grow up. I’m the same girl they saw cheering on the sidelines every Friday night during football season. I’m the girl who has stood in front of them at church for many years and sang. I’m the girl who went to school with their children. I’m the one who babysat their children. The chatty girl with the big blonde hair. And I’m so grateful that when they look at me, that’s what they see. They see me and they love me for me. I’ve changed, my life has changed, but I am still Brittnye. Brittnye with a new story, a different story.

And so maybe a trip home is the next step. Maybe it’s time to emerge from my hiding place. Because this is my life now. This is who I am. And I figure if they knew me and loved me before, hopefully not much is going to change that.

#144 – Because, thankfully, sometimes I’m wrong about how things will turn out.

"So now I am giving you a new commandment: Love each other. Just as I have loved you, you should love each other.Your love for one another will prove to the world that you are my disciples.” - John 13:34-35