Domestic, Yet Foreign

A spiritual arrival disguised as a summer relocation. Tune in.

I admit that, although I’m currently loveless, I am having a love affair.

The kind that makes you see the possibilities in something even when nobody else has the eyes to see. My ears hear the echo that only comes with faith-led steps, walking unsurely but optimistically toward destiny. Doubt tries to make its way in—critical voices from those who care for me but are careless with their opinions, their own fears in disguise. And I have to silence the noise before it plants a seed that festers as a dream deferred. Call it delusion, but I’m a hopeless romantic when it comes to my calling.

Some places just call to you.

They tap inside your mind incessantly until you breathe life into the idea that maybe there’s a reason you can’t stop thinking of it. That place—that destination—hints at something more than your current residence can fulfill. The urge to uproot what’s no longer producing fruit becomes hard to ignore. Even what’s good is not enough to keep you somewhere that you were never meant to stay. You won’t find solace in comfort; peace comes with purpose.

Many are called, but few are chosen (Matthew 22:14). While others run from change, I welcome it with open arms. It’s what had me packing the last of my overstuffed suitcase at four in the morning, just three hours before I needed to get ready to catch a flight. I spent the last few months planning and prepping for a moment that I still felt a little unprepared for. I knew not what lay ahead—I just knew it was time to leave dead things behind.

Domestic, yet foreign, I landed in LA knowing my return was inevitable, though this time I would be fulfilling the words I spoke to myself seven years prior. Perfectly complete, I wasn’t returning as the woman I was when I left. This woman is more self-assured, selfish with my time, but selfless with my gifts, and discerning to a point of detriment for those with ill intent. I’m not the one you try to screw and get over on; I’m the one you come correct for—or don’t come at all. And in His presence, demons flee.

In the quiet morning, the city greeted me with uncharacteristic ease. A smooth ride in a black Cadillac XT6 landed me in front of my temporary downtown abode on an avenue just as grand as my vision. A conversation on the 20th floor reminded me that elevation can only happen when you change your view. With that in mind, I kicked off my shoes and made myself at home. A summer in LA is long overdue.

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