Was I not strong enough? - My reflection on my time living in the City

 For those of you that don't know, I moved to the city in January. 

It's not an overtly big city. But it's got the bustle and the noise of a city. The 2am drone of ambulance sirens, the quiet night pierced with an "oi get BACK here!" by a drunken reveller followed by heavy feet running across the road. Construction starts at 4:30 am close to my house and it is truly, at least in my neighbourhood and on my street, a concrete jungle. And don't get me started on the looming threat of community transmission of COVID-19 in Newcastle. 

There are beautiful displays of humanity too - my neighbour who lives alone in a house she's owned for 30 years, having recently returned from working in the Middle East. She drowns her loneliness in new mulled wine recipes and a different shade of beige on her walls every other week. Her humour is wild, her eyes piercing. Her sense of superiority on full display, while the beautiful young child inside of her shines through. 

The lady across the back alley who owns two Shibe Inu dogs. She wears colourful dresses that match the deep tones of her Indian sun-touched skin and flowing hair. Her British accent reminding me instantly of all the travels and lives I've lived prior to the one I live now. 

"Rusty" down the lane is a Canadian retiree. He's hilariously presumptuous and I know that for sure, even having only met him once while I was taking the rubbish out. I called him out on something slightly sexist and we had a great moment of human connection following that moment.

There's an old man with a beaten up Mercedes who drives the streets with his boot open, collecting plastic bottles. I dare not ask if they're for him or if he collects them to raise money for others in need. He unashamedly deep dives into bins, a smile on his face. Industrious is what I'd call him. 

I love the people in the city. Not any more or any less than I love the people in the country. The people is what makes a place important.

And yet, here I am, readying myself for a move back to my hometown. A step, it seems, in the right direction to my new realised goal: sustainable country living. A step that will allow me to regain in this season of life a sense of peace and quiet. Something that I feel this city lacks. 

And as I book the removal truck and schedule an end to my lease, I wonder if this is what failure looks like. I had this strong desire to be here, to create change. To leave the old and embrace the new. I never stopped to think, however, whether the "new" was really new at all? In my walk with Jesus, I'm learning more and more than embracing the new instead of the old should be solely linked to embracing the new man and saying goodbye to the old man (Romans 6, Colossians 3). Sometimes embracing the "old" is good = sticking by the "difficult" people in our life, returning to a place you once thought was not worth committing to you. 

Sometimes I wonder if the city was my Tarshish. Sometimes I wonder if my mentality behind coming here was more to do with escaping the people I thought would never commit their lives to God (because apparently I had the authority to judge or , escaping the persecution I've experienced during my time in my hometown (none of us, I have discovered, have experienced home-town living without some kind of poor treatment - we're all initially products of brokenness!). Through some kind of emotional belly of the whale experience, I am returning home. Hearing the call of God. Grateful for His grace towards me and knowing that I must extend that grace to others. 

Was I not strong enough for the city? I don't believe that's the question I need to ask. Especially given a world-wide lockdown. Am I, as a human, built to flourish in the city? I look to the garden of Eden and every central story of the Bible to know that we were designed to flourish in nature. In wide, open space. And yes, I'll take some of my built up and old, negative and unhelpful tendencies to the garden. But it's easier to hear the voice of the One who can help me rid them for good.

For He is good.