True Confessions of a Snow Princess
Dear Alaska,
You are so lovely.
You are so lovely.
And in you I am a snow princess.
When I read about you in books, when I see pictures of sled dogs in hotels, when I sing the state song, I cry. You are in my blood and my bones.
I had a notion wrapped in dreams, hopes, anticipation, anxiety, and stress...a notion that when I came back to you I would understand why I felt like I was always different. The differences would feel erased, I would finally be home. But you know what? I found out...I also feel different here.
You know who I am like? Not Alaskans, not Mormons, not Alaskan Mormons, not people from small towns, not even necessarily my best friends (all people I previously thought I was like)...you know who I have found I might actually be most like? MY PARENTS.
Yep.
My parents are two of the most unique people I have ever met. Being like my parents means I will forever be different. I'm proud of that...not necessarily being different, but being like my parents.
There is something different about being different here. I don't feel lost, drowned out, misunderstood, overlooked, dismissed. I feel like people are nice. Really nice. People with no reason to be nice, and maybe even a reason to not be nice, they're kind. Sometimes people who I don't think much of initially are very kind to me. I find myself liking them, loving them. I'm deeply grateful for their strengths, many of which do not come naturally to me. Their goodness rubs off my rough edges.
I notice they're happy. They believe they are doing what God wants them to do. I wonder how they can be so confident and satisfied...but I also wonder, if I can't seem to find what He wants, why not try to believe that maybe, just maybe I can't find it because this is it.
And when I think that I'm happier. When some of those rough edges get rubbed off I am happier still.
Is this your trick Alaska? It's a good one.
Yours truly,
Sarah
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