Creeping Provincialism?

We moved to Murfreesboro, from the thriving metropolis of Rantoul, Illinois (population 12,000) almost 2 1/2 years ago. At the time, we were thrilled to be moving to Middle Tennessee, because Middle Tennessee symbolized one thing for us - family. It is where our families are from, and where they still live. We (or at least I) fondly imagined ourselves basking in the warm glow of extended family life, attending Sunday suppers, making homemade ice cream, and just gradually getting together with our families as often as possible.

Somehow, this has not happened. What we failed to take into account was the fact that we had been gone for 7 years, and during that interim, we had become pretty self-sufficient. Used to not having family around, we had learned to plan other activities for the weekends, had gotten involved with and became parts of church families, etc. We simply did not know how to go about scheduling time with family, unless there was a holiday involved. We had also had a child, and had gotten as busy as families do.

I am from Nashville, and I deeply love my hometown. I worked after college for the Tennessee State Library and Archives, and had often spent my lunch hours wandering around downtown, reading historic markers and soaking up the atmosphere of the place. Moving away after my marriage was gut wrenching. It felt as if a part of me had been amputated. Gone was my sense of history, my sense of knowing I was treading the same streets as Davy Crockett, Andrew Jackson, James Polk, suffragettes, and everyday people.

So I thought that I would spend a lot of time in Nashville when I returned to middle Tennessee. I thought Murfreesboro would simply be a home base, but Nashville would be the pull, the place I would live my life. To be truthful, other than to visit my parents, I have gone to Nashville a handful of times since I moved back.

For one thing, Nashville has changed. It is bigger and busier. Years spent driving in central Illinois (where I saw more corn stalks than people) did not adequately prepare me for Nashville traffic again. Things have moved, or been torn down or built up, and I no longer feel at home there.

What I have become is a provincial. Other than church, and a play date that may take me to a different part of the county, I rarely leave eastern or downtown Murfreesboro. Everything I need is in this area - Hardy's preschool, my doctor, the kids' doctor, the grocery, my favorite park, downtown. I would probably stay pretty happily in this area of Murfreesboro forever, only leaving to visit family on occasion or to take a brief vacation.

I wonder sometimes if this provincialism is a negative thing - how on earth can I do whatever it is I am meant to do if I spend 90% of my time in a 5 mile wide area? How will I ever accomplish anything of value, of lasting worth? Shouldn't I want to go out and see more, venture out and do more?

I then think of some people who achieved greatness despite living very quiet, retired lives. I think of Emily Dickinson and Jane Austen. Both great writers who spoke great truth, but never ventured out into a wider life. I think of the thousands of women in the past who raised great leaders, such as Gandhi, Mother Theresa, Abraham Lincoln. These mothers were not famous, did not achieve greatness on their own. Yet somehow they managed to produce greatness.

Perhaps greatness does not always need great square footage to flourish - perhaps what it needs more is an unfettered heart and mind, willing to dream big, to think big, and when the occasion requires it, to act big.