The Dixie Chicks Would Scoff at Me...So What?

 When I left for college, it was with the intentions of studying international relations, graduating, and then bidding the US "adios" and living in a major European city.  This country girl was going to live the fast life, rub elbows with international political superstars, and remember fondly, those back home who were probably eating a chicken fried steak as I was enjoying my fancy, five course dinner, blocks away from any notable European landmark. 

  You know the quote, "If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans"?  Well, God laughed large at Ole Scout.  I am everything the Dixie Chicks sing about.  I live in the same zip code as my parents, married my high school sweet heart, and had a baby that will graduate from the same high school I did.  For whatever reasons, my lifestyle is one media types either think is quaint in a cutesy, simpleton way, or pathetic.  I disagree.  Perhaps, this thinking is dirived from lack of experience with a small town, other than them being a stopping point for fuel.  Let's face it.  Small town gas stations aren't exactly the accurate representation of what one will find hidden within Small Town America...but sadly, and humoursly, sometimes they are!
  Even if we do not understand at the time, God knows exactly what he's doing. I have a huge love for all things urban.  I feel so alive wandering unfamiliar streets, strolling through notable art museums, overwhelming my senses window shopping, and surrounding myself with those who are nothing like those "back home".  I agree with Scarlett.  Every one of us has something to learn from someone who may be the total opposite of everything we know and hold to be true.  Yes, unfortunately, there are those in my small surroundings who are so set in their ways, and unwilling to accept an opinion that differs from their own, they miss out on any opportunity to make this world a better place by embracing, or at least, educating themselves on the differences others are blessed to possess.

  Instead of riding in a cab with an argumentative Parisian taxi driver, I ride shotgun, with my high school love, a baby in cowhide print car seat, and a loyal dog in the bed of the pickup.  We pull up to our home, on a ranch, that just so happens to be home to the most beautiful show cave in the world.  Even though I live in the country, I constantly have new neighbors who stay and camp overnight.  New neighbors who arrive on my front porch from every corner of the globe.  Imagine that.  It was not for me to live abroad, but to come home, and have the world come to me.
 
 I love to create and learn.  When I learned I would be moving back home, I vowed to myself to never become complacent and to continue creating and learning.  My silent promise has been met with artists, professional photographers, and even college professors who instruct class, right in my front yard.  Scarlett does hear ten different languages on the metro.  And, on a peak tourist day, I too can hear unfamilar languages as they filter in with the breeze through my open windows.  Not from a busy city street, or crowded cafe, but from the Wide Open Spaces of the place I now , once again, call "home".