Like an old pair of Jeans

Moving back to my hometown came much easier than I expected it too. When I first arrived, I was running - from heartache, from humiliation, and from hurt. Many of my friends thought it was temporary. I'd come in, nurse my wounds for a bit, and then leave again. But surprisingly....I did not. I found that this tiny southern town was just as it had always been .... and that even after all this time, it was home.

Although I have changed in the 8 years since I left. I find myself settling into a few of the old roles I played. Growing up, my best bud Lane and I were the "dynamic duo" around school. If there was a project to do, a party to be planned, or anything that needed accomplishing -- we'd have a hand in it. Lane was always the idea person. She would have the grand visions for what she wanted -- and I was her work horse. I'd take those big plans and break them down into tiny to do lists. Eight years later, not much has changed.

When Lane told me that I'd be helping her with the Church drama, I did not hesitate to agree. (Note: even when we were younger....she told me...not asked... it was accepted that I'd do it). And from that point on, I have turned back into the work horse. My Bible is currently full of scraps of paper, with deadlines, planes, and to do lists. I know each task that has to be completed prior to Sunday morning. I know when it has to happen and who I have delegated it to. And when Lane begins to spaz about it.... I am there to calm her down ... just like always.

Some might read this and think I am complaining. I'm not. Some may think that Lane is abusing me. She's not. I am just playing to my strengths. And she is to hers. We work as a team. And that hard work will pay off on Sunday morning.

It's comforting to know - that after so many years of trying on "new hats" - attempting to become someone else. I am finding myself again (with a few modifications) and that I truly like that person.