Bloom Where You're Planted

Last weekend, while I was in Lexington, I had something of an epiphany. I was standing in line for a steak at Fire Mountain when it occurred to me. Living in the North has been bad for my mental health. I know, I know ... them's fightin' words to anyone who lives above the Mason-Dixon line. But I've been thinking (or obsessing, whatever) about it for the past few days, and I think I'm onto something.

Let's face it, Southern hospitality is not a myth. Neither is the slow-paced lifestyle of the South. I realize that Kentucky is a border state and it's certainly not an accurate representation of the Deep South. But it's definitely Southern.

Pittsburgh is not.

When I first moved here, people would often ask me, "What do you think of Pittsburgh?" or "You like living up North?" Eventually I realized that these questions are in the same category as "How's my cooking?" or "Did you like the gift?" or "Does this make me look fat?" When someone asks you one of these questions, they aren't asking you for an honest assessment. They're asking for reassurance, so you tell them what they want to hear. Once I figured that out, I started answering the questions about Pittsburgh the "right" way. "It's great," I'd say with a smile. End of conversation.

And then at the hotel this weekend, I went looking for the ice machine. When I couldn't find it, I stopped outside an open room and asked the housekeeper inside if she could tell me where it was. I spoke so quickly at first that I don't know if she could even understand me. I had to force myself to speak more slowly and calmly. And when she smiled and strolled out of the room to help me find it, explaining that she was new, I realized that I'd been nervous about asking her because I didn't know how she'd react. I was afraid that she'd be irritated by my interrupting her and unfriendly to me as a result.

That same evening, we went to dinner at Fire Mountain. As I said, I was waiting in line for my steak, as were five or six other people. The young man behind the grill had just put on several slabs of meat and they were all just starting to cook, so it was going to be a few minutes. No one batted an eye. The man behind the grill was chatting and joking with the people in line. The two men behind me were talking about where they were from, and one of them was explaining that he and his wife had just bought a new car and drove to Lexington for dinner to celebrate. Even when the steaks were finally cooked, the man behind the grill wasn't passing them out right away because he was so busy bantering with us.

Those two experiences showed me something very important. Important to me, anyway.

When I lived in Kentucky, people were generally friendly and cooperative. I never had a waitress act like I was imposing upon her by ordering food. I never had a cashier act like she was too busy to ring me up. Now, when J. and I go out, he'll make a point to compliment the waitress/cashier/etc. if they're exceptionally friendly. And I like that about him. But I realized this weekend how different that is from Kentucky, where it's expected that they'll be friendly and personable.

I think this is correlated to the slow-paced lifestyle of the South and the faster-paced lifestyle of the North. In Kentucky, people are enjoying what they're doing, no rush to move from one thing to the next. In Pittsburgh, it seems like everyone is already thinking about the next thing on their list, and they're trying to get to it as fast as they can. Given that, it would make sense that it's more of a bother when you ask someone for help (although it doesn't explain why people get upset when you just want them to do their job). They feel like you're impeding their progress. In Kentucky, it seems like the focus is not so much on the destination as it is on the journey. There's less pressure to finish the current task and get started on the next one. So people don't mind as much when they get interrupted or delayed.

The difference in overall friendliness was apparent to me as soon as I moved here. Or friendliness to strangers, I guess I should say. That's the main thing I'd mention when people asked how I liked it here and I thought they really wanted to know. Whenever I brought it up, I'd always hear, "No, people are just as friendly here." And to Pittsburgh's credit, J. has said that it's much friendlier than the bigger cities like New York or Chicago. And I believe it. (But even he'll acknowledge that people in general are more friendly in the South.)

Anyways, if I dared to suggest that Pittsburghers were less friendly than people from my home state, I would always be reassured that I was incorrect and needed to "give them a chance." So after being told repeatedly that people here are just as friendly as people in Kentucky ... and then going out and about and constantly encountering people who were less friendly ... well, is it any surprise that I began internalizing it? After all, if people here are just as friendly, then it must be that they just aren't being friendly to me.

I used to be very outgoing and self-confident. When I lived in Lexington, I got plenty of compliments on my smile ... and even the greeter at Kroger once commented on being happy to see me because I was so friendly. I only mention this to vouch for my personality, once upon a time. Now, I try to be friendly. And more often than not, it seems like people don't appreciate it because it's holding them up from what they're trying to do. Take, for example, the drive-thru window. I'll determine in my mind to be smiling and friendly when I get my food ... and then the person won't make eye contact with me and closes the window as soon as the food leaves their hand. What can I say, that starts to have an effect on a person?

So now ... I find myself in the unenviable position of being homesick and having no one to talk to about it. I don't dare mention it to any of my friends here, because they'll take it as a personal affront and then focus so much on their own hurt feelings that my homesickness gets lost in the sauce. Plus, there's the fact that we couldn't move anyway, so it doesn't matter whether I'm homesick or not. Two very major things make it impossible for us to move: the band, and our custody of Janna. Neither of which I'd be willing to trade for a move, but still, it adds to the discouragement.

What does all this boil down to? Right now, I'm walking by faith. God purposed to bring me to Pittsburgh, and only He knows when or if I'll ever move back to the South. He wasn't blindsided by my homesickness. Which means that He has a plan for me while I'm here. Which means I need to suck up my selfish desire to move back home and instead focus my energies on being content with what I have. God's plan for me is greater than anything I could scheme up on my own, so I need to stop bemoaning the fact that His plans aren't aligning with mine. I'm going to focus on all the good things that have come from my moving here (and there are plenty!) and just be happy for what I have. And I'm going to trust in the Lord with all my heart and lean not on my own understanding. Because, after all, He knows the plans He has for me, plans to prosper me and not to harm me, plans to give me hope and a future. Amen, and amen.