I cannot stop typing the word “Oklahoma” without accidentally typing an “e” instead of an “a” at the end. It looks like this: “Oklahome.” This is a personal problem that I will hopefully correct by today.
Living in San Diego, California has its positive qualities. Despite what others tell you about the people here, I have made such amazing relationships, this past year especially. The people of southern California are great, just like the weather. Bragging about the weather year-round is absolutely unfair to anyone else and I will not even begin to discuss the beaches. I was born and raised in San Diego. I love it here, but I can only call this place second to what I really feel home is.
I can fly on a one to two layover flight to arrive in a small airport called Tulsa International, or I can drive that twenty-two hour drive through the New Mexico mountains and across the winding roads of north Texas to reach Tulsa. If the wind does not slap your ears every time you walk outside, then you can never say you have been there. I mean, it is in the song, “Oklahoma where the wind comes sweeping down the plains.”
In late August, cliff jumping at Lake Tenkiller with a group of friends, is always a blast. In early November the leaves are falling along with the temperature, but at night the bonfires along Riverside warm up the nights. The Rhema Bible Church Christmas lights are always a must see beginning the day after Thanksgiving and ending shortly after New Year’s Day. In the spring, the Philbrook Museum have gardens that are absolutely reviving. The warmth on your skin and the fresh breeze brushing across your face as the wind dances with your hair will almost make you believe in fairy tales again.
When I moved to Tulsa in August of 2012 for college at Oral Roberts University, I never expected being where I am now. I moved into the ninth floor of a women’s dorm named Frances Cardone. There with my unicorn Pillow Pet, all of my bedding, luggage, a dozen writing journals, and a million dreams-all of greatness, surrounded me.
While attending ORU, I met many different groups of people who became like family. I will never forget the Jones’s Ranch worship nights near Bristow. I hold dear the churches that I joined with and grew from. I will never stop praying for the friends I made at ORU. They lifted me when I was in need and taught me the importance of a Godly relationship and friendship. The culture of prayer and worship has formed me into the woman I am today. No one ever said it was a bad idea to live in the “belt buckle” of the Bible Belt. It was definitely a culture shock coming from a city where I would consider it to be a desert land for Christian culture. San Diego is not for the faint-hearted.
Being back in San Diego, after three impossibly rewarding years of my life, has made me see the value in where I was between the ages of eighteen and twenty-one. Every time I missed San Diego while living in Tulsa, I would plead with the Lord and ask to go back sooner rather than later. Now that I am finally here, I cry out to God and ask Him to take me back home. I believe everywhere I go, I leave a piece of my heart behind. Tulsa is no exception. This is why I miss Tulsa, Oklahoma.
P.S. Kalvin also told me to remind you that I am always home whenever I am with him.
[husband’s note: **cue the audience verbal “aw”**]