A couple weeks ago I went to Santa Monica and fell in love.
I've never been an LA city girl. Always more a country-ish, suburbia girl. I wear cowboy boots and leggings and my hair is rarely done up. Pony tails and bobby pins are my BFF's. They hold me together in the good times and bad.
But my love for home is more than just apparel and hairstyles. I've never really seen a need to leave. I have my family here, my husband, my job, my friends, and memories. A lot of memories. I've always been apprehensive when casual conversations bring up the topic of moving away or relocating. "Me? Nah, I love it here." And I do. But something in my heart is changing.
On that trip, I feel like my eyes were opened to a whole new world [insert Aladdin song here] of people that I wanted to get to know. People that loved Jesus and people that had no idea who He is. People who loved life and people who had given up hope. I wanted to talk to them, have coffee with them, and buy some of them socks to keep their feet warm.
I don't really know what all these means, but I'll keep digging.
Something has been unlocked, but it's still too soon to see what the treasure is.
A dream has been born, but I'm not exactly sure what that dream is. But I know it has something to do with Santa Monica. So I'll keep praying and dreaming and waiting.