stran·ger
/ˈstrānjər/
noun.
a. a person whom one does not know or with whom one is not familiar.
b. a person who does not know, or is not known in, a particular place or community.
c. a person entirely unaccustomed to (a feeling, experience, or situation).
When I was six years old, my family and I moved to Barrie. For my parents, this was a huge adjustment. My dad was leaving behind the only place he’d known as home, my mom was leaving behind a steady job, and together, they were waving goodbye to a bunch of trusted friends.
They had such a strong sense of belonging in this community that it took an extra year before they even considered switching churches. For that first year living in Barrie, we piled into the car every Sunday and drove an hour to church, followed by lunch at my Nana’s house.
That commute might sound ridiculous to some of you, but for us it made sense. This was the church where my dad came to know Christ, where my parents were married, and where both of their children were dedicated to the Lord. They loved the people here, and those people loved them.
Even though I could tell this was a big change for my parents, the move didn’t make much of a difference to me or my baby sister. Being so young made it easy to pick up in a new place. I took a bus to school accompanied by plenty of other kids. I quickly made friends in the neighbourhood and spent hours playing outside. And I even started attending a kid’s club at a local church. Everything felt normal.
We spent the next 16 years in that precious house, and I grew up watching my hometown grow alongside me. The fields and forests surrounding our neighbourhood eventually turned into streets full of houses, schools full of children, and shopping centres full of stores.
Our house changed here and there over the years thanks to my dad’s handiwork. My sister and I went through phases as we grew, sometimes sharing a room and sometimes not. The friends I made came and went as school zones changed and people moved away. But the one thing that remained was family.
Even when I moved three hours away for university, I could never forget the place I called home.
My husband and I recently moved to the Toronto area, and although the move made sense for us, it was a hard choice for me to accept. I don’t know if it’s an eldest child thing, but I had dreams of forever living, working, and building a family in my hometown. Sure, I was aware that marrying a guy whose career was based in the big city could change that, but I could fight that for a while, right?
It turns out that my own career started to flourish farther south, as well. I was hired by an entirely different school district than I had planned, and the calls kept coming every day. I woke up early, drove to work, taught all day, drove back to Barrie, tutored all evening, and eventually made it home for dinner. It was crazy.
When we first moved here, the school year was off to a very slow start, so I had a whole month with no work and no friends nearby. I had grown accustomed to being the outsider at work, since I travelled to a different school almost every day, but living day by day in a whole new city was an entirely different kind of strange.
One of the first things I noticed in this new place was that people did not make eye contact with you. Even though I am pretty shy sometimes, it was normal for me to look up, smile, and maybe even say hello to whoever I passed on the street. On my first walk outside our new home, I quickly realized this was not the social norm. Instead, strangers gave the impression that they preferred their personal bubbles. This made me so uncomfortable that I even sent a text to a few friends about the experience.
The next thing I noticed was that the vast majority of people around here looked like they had been pulled out of a fashion magazine. Not kidding. At first, I thought this might be an exaggeration resulting from my own insecurities, but since then I’ve had old friends visit and confirm my observations. Whether on the way to work, going to the gym, or just casually doing some shopping, men and women alike are wearing the latest and greatest brands.
And last, but not least, I have been regularly surprised by the sheer volume of people. Streets are busy at all hours, restaurants are bustling every night of the week, and the options for shopping abound. To my current knowledge, there are four different shopping malls, two Walmart supercentres, and at least ten different coffee shops in a 15 minute radius of my home. Yes, it’s a privilege, but I also think it’s excessive.
Needless to say, I’ve had to make some adjustments.
On the other hand, my adventurous, hard-working hubby has seemed to have little trouble adjusting. You see, Andrew is accustomed to moving around. He once went to three different schools in one school year, and while he doesn’t wish this for anyone, it did teach him how to adapt. On top of that, he spent two years at Humber College and another three years living and working in the big city. Toronto is nothing short of normal for him.
We’ve decided to use our different perspectives to help each other adjust. Andrew helps me understand the norms of city life, and I help him remember our hometown roots. Together, we’ve been working to make our new space feel more like home. Just last week I started hanging pictures on the walls of our condo, and let me tell you, it makes a huge difference.
I’ve been loving the short drive to work and the increased number of calls I can take simply because the travel time is virtually cut in half. Andrew has been happily going to and from work each day, making it home at a normal hour for dinner. We both enjoy a healthier amount of sleep, and most importantly, a healthier amount of quality time with each other.
For the past couple of weeks, we’ve been visiting the local church I mentioned earlier – the place my parent’s called home so many years ago. I have been reintroducing myself to old friends, many of whom knew me as a young girl. In the past two weeks, there have been many a happy conversation of recognition and remembrance. Somehow, walking through those church doors felt like coming home.
Although Barrie was and always will be our hometown, we are beginning to celebrate the small steps we’ve been making here. As I look back over our journey, I realize that sometimes when we make plans for our lives, we start to think that we know what is best. Truth be told, that’s not usually the case.
Clearly, someone greater than me has bigger and better plans.