It was 7 years ago.
Luke had just graduated medical school. Noelle was a few months past her first birthday. We were preparing to move from Indianapolis back to Muncie to begin Luke’s family medicine residency.
And we had no place to live.
Other classmates of Luke’s had already found homes. Many of them purchased cute homes in quaint neighborhoods — some of them chose to rent. But at least they all had a place to land. We, however, did not. We were struggling to find something that met our needs, both in location and space for our family.
We knew we wanted to rent. Afterall, we really did not have long-term plans to stay in Muncie — this place where both of us were born, both of us were raised, and where I went to college. We had experienced Indianapolis, and that is where we called home. We likely would be buzzing right back down the interstate after Luke’s last three years of medical training, and we would resume our lives where we left off.
Finding rental properties that are not marketed toward college students is a difficult task in a college town. Luke decided to drive around the neighborhoods where we would like to live and call the realtors advertised on the For Sale signs in the yards of prospective homes. He would ask, “Would your sellers be interested in a 3 year rental agreement?” Many said no. A couple said yes. And I knew when we walked in, that this house was the one.
Tall ceilings. Minimal carpet. Updated kitchen appliances. Large master suite. Cute yard. Great neighborhood. Yes, this was home.
The realtor explained that the seller of this house would like to keep it on the market until mid July, and if it still did not sell, she would be willing to rent to us for three years.
Luke’s training had already begun in Muncie by the time July came, so he drove the hour there and back until we got the phone call that the house was still on the market and it was ours to rent. So, we packed up our Indianapolis home and headed north.
We quickly came to love not only this house but the community we had forgotten about. In the glow of the big city lights, with all the restaurant choices and shopping centers and pretty neighborhoods and high-rise buildings, it was easy to forget about Muncie. To forget about how it warms your heart to see your neighbor (or former student or best friend or family doctor) at the grocery store and stop in the aisle to have a conversation. To forget about how sincerely appreciative the small business owners are when you shop at their spots. To forget about the family-owned restaurants where you actually know the family. To forget about how it feels to reminisce about your friend who used to live on that street or about the park where you used to play for hours or…
Most of us have a desire to spread our wings and make a life for ourselves. For many, that means leaving the town we have called home for most of our lives and seeing what else is out there. Lots of times, career opportunities are more plentiful elsewhere and the desire for a change of scenery is very strong. For us, it meant leaving for a few years but then returning. It was never part of our plan, but I believe it was part of The Plan.
Muncie isn’t sparkly. It isn’t shiny and new. There are parts that are dark and scary. You could easily make a list of negatives — if you’re that type of person. You could also do that with any other city in America. Much of what we deem to be location-specific problems are really generational problems or simply human race problems.
But Muncie is storied. It is historic. It is breathing again by way of businesses with prideful owners, community events with dedicated coordinators, a thriving university with an invested president, and a hospital with compassionate physicians (I know because I’m married to one).
I believe that wherever you go, there you are. Meaning if you’re a negative person, you’ll be negative in even the nicest, flashiest, fanciest of places. If you’re constantly looking for the worst in people, you will do that there, too. If you’re an unhappy person, you will likely be unhappy no matter where you move. If you cultivate drama or a culture of gossip or cliques, you will find that as well, wherever you end up.
But if you see the good in people? If you make the best out of tough situations? If you can find ways to be helpful where you are needed? If you can be just as thrilled by a beautiful sunrise as you are by a perfectly cooked steak at a five-star restaurant? I bet you will be happy wherever you live. Even if it is in Muncie, Indiana.
So, almost four years ago, just hours after we left the hospital with our newborn baby, Shiloh, we went to the title company to sign the papers to purchase this house we were only going to rent. We didn’t know what the future held for us, but we knew we weren’t ready to leave Muncie anytime soon.
And now it looks like we may not be leaving, ever. As I sit here writing amidst moving boxes and rolls of packing tape, it has hit me that this is the last night I will sleep in this house that was the bridge between the life we thought we wanted in the big city and the life we have created for ourselves in our hometown. Tomorrow begins a new chapter for us at the Tree HousE, just ten minutes down the road from our house now and a 22-second car ride to my in-laws’ driveway.
While we don’t yet have buyers for this sweet little place we have called home for seven years, we know that they will come. Just like with us, I predict that it will not be the family that chooses this house but the house that chooses them.
