Reluctant Texan to Rooted Soul

I'm sitting here a month into summer, battling a cold, and suddenly, it hit me: just how incredibly blessed I am. The prayers I've prayed.   They haven't just come true; they've multiplied in ways I never could have imagined.

First, a little background for those who don't know my story. I'm not from Texas. In fact, you could probably call me a reluctant Texan. It’s hot, the summers are nothing like the ones I had in my childhood, and I'm pretty confident the air here is out to get me. But considering I’ve lived in Texas for fifteen years now—longer than any other place I’ve called home—reluctant or not, it’s home.

I moved to Texas back in 2010, stepping into the unknown without knowing a single soul. I truly believed that because the opportunity came so smoothly, God surely had a hand in it. The opportunity itself may have been smooth, but those first two years were turbulent, to put it mildly. I’d moved many times before, but this was different. The workplace culture was toxic, and with no friends or family around, I was starting completely from scratch. About six months in, after many tearful Sundays spent in a church pew, I had a heart-to-heart with God. "Why did you bring me here," I pleaded.  Turns out, He was calling me to something more profound. A month or so after that honest conversation, I met my future husband.

Looking back, I have to laugh. Even after meeting my husband, marrying him, and buying a house here, I was absolutely determined we’d eventually move back to the Midwest. My plan was to raise a family near my family. I even told my husband, with complete conviction, that I wasn’t going to make friends here; I didn’t want to get attached. Now, bring on the full-on belly laughs at how spectacularly wrong I was!

God was calling me to build a life right here. He brought me to Texas for a reason—many reasons, I’m sure, that I still don’t fully grasp. But I know this: He brought me here to marry my husband, to build our family, and to cultivate a community that is as strong, and perhaps even larger, than my family community back in the Midwest.

This realization has been slowly building over time, but this morning it truly hit me with a powerful force. Just yesterday, I was talking with a friend, my heart overflowing over a photo of our kids.  Despite feeling under the weather, I ended up at lunch with friends from church, our kids playing together. It was a moment of pure joy, surrounded by friends founded through a common faith and connection—a community and a family I didn't even know I desperately needed. Years ago, God had placed a pull on my heart to create community at my neighborhood church. It wasn't just a gentle nudge, but a very clear call to action from a timely homily: if I didn't feel at home in my church, it was up to me to change that, to make it feel like home.

Well, today, I’m reflecting with profound gratitude for the past four years at my parish. I’ve transformed from a woman who knew no one and didn’t feel at home, to someone who is now a catechist, a ministry leader, a bridge for people in my community, and someone who feels perfectly at home sitting in the front pew.

God is so, so good. Is God calling you to something more?