I no longer live in Menver.  Hotlanta has always seemed too, well, hot.  And this isn’t the Windy City.  I live in a town (that calls itself a city) that is just too sensible for a clever nickname.  This is a sturdy town full of resilient people – they don’t have time for the shenanigans you find at joints like Hamburger Mary’s.  No, this is a town where you keep your head down, eat at chain restaurants, and plod forward.  You may not get far, but you’ll keep moving.

This town does not encourage risks.  You go to school, maybe go to college, and in whichever order you choose, you get married and have some kids.  You move to a burb that is slightly nicer than the one you were raised in, you worry about getting your kids into a good school, you cheer at their high school sporting events, help them plan their weddings, and then you start over with their kids.  Along the way you mix in a divorce or two.

If you take a risk – if you step off that residential sidewalk – you are going to fail, and it will be a well-deserved failure, because you were raised to keep your head down and keep plodding forward.  You were not raised to try to jump the line by taking a risk.  That’s just not what God intended.

I do not fit in this town.  I want the glitter of a city that has seen too much to deny me the opportunity to be myself. I am tired of being judged for not fitting in the box.  The box is great, but it’s the right box for you, not me.  It’s sort of like that really nice guy you try to date because there’s nothing wrong with him.  But there is something wrong with him – he’s the wrong guy for you.

I don’t understand people who don’t need an identity outside their role as a parent, but I understand that the world needs people who feel that way.  I understand people who find satisfaction in their careers, or their workouts, or their newest hobby.  I understand that I should probably move on and find a city that feels the same way.

But I am terrified of taking that risk again.  Because I will fail, and it will be a well-deserved failure, because I was raised to keep my head down and keep plodding forward.  I was not raised to try to jump the line by taking a risk.