Pondering one's roots

Geographical that is, not hair. Although I suppose at 40 that may be just around the corner.

We did a lot of driving this past Christmas break, all of it to visit with family that we don't get to see very often. Our travels took us to Levittown, PA, Brooklyn, NY, Allentown, PA, Reading, PA and finally back home to Virginia. Almost 800 miles and 21 hours in a car with 3 small children (over a period of 7 days). It gave me lots of time to ponder. We drove through urban, suburban, and rural areas. We passed farms, housing developments, and industrial sites. All but the scenery on the way to New York was very familiar to me.

I grew up in Pennsylvania. Born and raised in Reading, PA, in my lifetime I have traveled over most of the state at one time or another - the exception being the northwest corner - had no reason to go there, yet. I've visited Philadelphia and Pittsburgh and a lot of what's in between. I've logged countless miles on the Pennsylvania Turnpike. I've lived in Reading, Annville , Canadensis, Spring City, and Bensalem. Home town, college, two summer jobs at different camps, and our first place after being married. I've lived between tracts of farmland and two major highways.

As I was walking through Allentown to the playground where my husband had taken the kids to get some fresh air and exercise, a passage from one of my favorite movies started echoing through my brain...

"Katie Scarlett O'Hara, do you mean to tell me that Tara, that land doesn't mean anything to you? Why land is the only thing in the world worth workin' for, worth fightin' for, worth dyin' for because it's the only thing that lasts."

"And to anyone with a drop of Irish blood in them, why the land they live on is like their mother."

If you don't recognize it, that's Gerald O'Hara talking to his daughter, Scarlett, in Gone With the Wind. I started wondering if that attachment to land didn't apply to more than just the Irish. Somewhere, a few years ago, I read that around 70% of the population of Pennsylvania consists of folks who were born there. As opposed to California and Florida, where much of the population moved there. I've talked to a lot of people here in Virginia who are transplanted Pennsylvanians like myself. Almost always we get to talking like long lost friends about the places we've lived and visited. That's one of the peculiar things about America. All 50 states are part of one country, and yet each state has it's own character and personality. Even though the Civil War is many years gone, a New Englander and a Southerner still have their own unique characteristics. (Of course, many rural Virginians still fly the Confederate flag, but that's a different post entirely.) And Texas is practically its own country.

I found it odd that even though we have lived in Northern Virginia for going on 10 years, one week in Pennsylvania made me feel like I'd come home. Don't get me wrong - I like our new state, our city, our neighborhood. Rural Virginia has mountains and scenery every bit as beautiful as that of Pennsylvania.

So I started wondering what was up with that. What is it I'm actually missing? Or what is it I'm actually feeling connected to? Is it the land itself? The people? Do I miss the place or is it just that most of my memories were made there?

I do think part of it is living in the DC Metro area can be very isolating. Even when we visited my brother-in-law and his family in Brooklyn, we noticed that folks actually come *out* of their houses and spend time together. All the neighborhood children play together at the playground. Now, I'm not a city mouse. But even I could see why they enjoy living there. Culture and history fairly ooze from the stones of the buildings - and people make a point to connect to that culture and each other.

Here, everyone hides. In their homes, their cars, or at least their technology. I have only one other mom-friend in my neighborhood. And 2 acquaintances. After 10 years. It's not for lack of trying, either. I've taken my kids to various playgrounds many times hoping to connect with other moms. I was in a moms group for 4 years, when my oldest was little. Even there, it felt like we were little more than strangers.

Like my 5 year old daughter, I am a social butterfly. I am happiest around people. But I'm not into shallow relationships. I'm terrible at small talk. I love having deep, meaningful, philosophical conversations. Except that the friends I feel most connected to emotionally, are the farthest away geographically. This leads to a weird sort of manic depressive social life. During the week, when I am mostly by myself with just the children, I feel very much like Moses wandering around in the my own personal desert. On the weekends, when I participate in church stuff (our church being over 20 miles away) I feel all happy and excited and part of the group. And on a few rare, golden occasions, I get to see some of those really good friends who live even farther away.

I haven't figured out how to manage this state of affairs in my brain. I can't spend my whole week looking forward to my Friday prayer meeting or my set design work at church. But I get more and more frustrated just puttering around the house doing my chores in isolation. I've had some really long talks with God about this whole situation. I've tried Brother Lawrence's practicing the Presence of God. Unfortunately I'm not very good at this yet.

It made me ponder further, am I really missing something tangible (like the PA countryside) or something intangible (the places I've felt closest to God). One is very obviously still there, changing daily with the winds of Progress. The other exists only in my memory. Do I feel less connected to society around me because IT has changed, or because I have? If I moved back to some random part of Pennsylvania, would it feel any more like home? You know the old saying, "wherever you go, there you are" - well, I know I have changed a lot in the past 10 years. Those changes go with me wherever I go.

Perhaps it is simply a part of (what, as a Christian I believe is) picking up my cross daily, and sharing in the sufferings of Christ. Perhaps my cross is to share in the loneliness and isolation that Jesus must have felt, living among those who never truly understood Him. Perhaps these are my own desert wanderings. Or maybe, just maybe, I am beginning to feel the true reality of my situation as a follower of Christ as set forth in Hebrews 13:14

"For here have we no continuing city, but we seek one to come."

Guess it's a good thing I like camping...