Dear Dallas,
Our time together came to an end almost two months ago.
It’s crazy to think that it’s already been that long. More than that, it’s
crazy to think of how much time I still need to process through what the last
three years mean to me. I think we both know that I’m telling the truth when I
say we had a… tumultuous season together. Yet you’ve contributed so much to who I am
and have made me grow. Sometimes, it was painful. It was certainly always
necessary. When I think back over the last three years I see just how much of a
love/hate relationship we had:
-There was the time you gave me a church family that
carried me when I could not move on my own
-There was the time all of my theology classes had names
I had to Google just to know what I would be studying
-There was the time I realized I could out-drink most
everyone in seminary, but then realized that was nothing to brag about since it
was, after all, seminary
-There was the time I realized that most dating options
in Dallas meant frat-tastic cowboys or homeschooled pastors’ kids. Then there
were the times I tried to make it work anyways
-There was the time my best friend for over a decade
moved to town and reminded me of who I am
-There were all of the times I shouted every four-letter
word I knew when a light drizzle of rain would start and the highway would
practically shut down. Seriously, Dallas, it’s just rain
-There was the time you gave me drinking buddies to laugh
with. Then there was the time I got put on disciplinary probation for going out
with those drinking buddies
-There were the times when I was made to feel like my
spiritual gifts were “less than” because I didn’t want to be a pastor
-There were so many Taco Joint dates with friends.
Then the time I was asked on a date by a Taco Joint employee, said no, and had
to forfeit free queso privileges
-There were all the times I was told I needed to be a
good steward of the body the Lord had given me, followed up by slut shaming for
wearing yoga pants on my way to work out
Honestly, Dallas, I’m not sure how I feel about you at
this point. You have really good food and Texas sunsets do have their own
charm, yet I feel like the weight is finally off my shoulders of people telling
me how I’m supposed to behave to be worthy or lovely or enough, all in the name
of Jesus. I feel like I’m entering a season of life that allows me to be who I
was created to be. Although the last three years have felt so stifling that I'm not even fully sure who that is. This new season will be one filled with family, laughter,
mountains, and good drinks. A season which embraces my quirks instead of trying
to suffocate them. A season that does not
make me feel like something is wrong with me simply for being myself.
For the last three years I feel like I’ve been walking
around afraid to offend my fellow seminarians. But here’s the thing—I think we’re
offended by the wrong things. Sometimes it seems like the culture I’ve been
immersed in gets offended over swearing more than they do poverty. They’re
offended by tattoos more than the blatant mistreatment of the orphans and the
widows and the ragamuffins. They support social justice causes on a grand
scale, but fail to love their neighbor because it doesn’t fit their own expectations and needs.
Please don’t read me saying that the last three years
have been all bad. I am beyond grateful for some of the experiences I had
there. But now, I’m ready for the next. I’m ready to be encouraged instead of
suppressed and to embrace all of the oddities life has to offer. I’m ready to
do things that make me come alive. Because when you do things from your soul,
other people really dig that shit.
So Dallas, I know we’ll see each other again, probably
soon.
Until that day comes, know that I’ll think about you
often. Most of the time, even fondly.
xx,
Chelsea
P.S. Thanks for the view of the skyline every night. That
was really cool of you.
P.P.S. I really miss your tacos, a lot.
P.P.S. I really miss your tacos, a lot.
