February 2017 my husband I moved the short one hundred mile distance from San Marcos, Texas to Beeville. Who knew the incredible difference those miles would make in our lives? Certainly not I.
Nestled just 30 miles South of the state’s capitol of Austin, and 51 miles north of San Antonio, home to Texas State University, with a population estimated at 63,000, San Marcos is an ideal cross culture of small-town community with big city amenities. We called San Marcos home for almost thirteen years, living there longer than either my husband or I had ever lived anywhere our entire lives.
The move to Beeville created complete chaos in our lives. We sold the only home we’d ever owned, left a solid network of friends, moved further away from our grown children, and I had to resign from a job I held for almost ten years where I’d not only grown tremendously on a professional level, but forged many relationships. We moved to a town with none of the amenities we’ve grown accustomed to having, no friends, and no home to call our own.
For the first fourteen months we lived in a hotel, then spent another six weeks in a travel trailer before finally moving into one of the bedrooms of the church parsonage we were remodeling. For months we camped out in that single room with no kitchen, no living room, and few of the comforts of home.
With a population of approximately 13,000, Beeville is home to one community college, and three prisons. Located 55 miles southwest of Victoria and 61 miles southeast of Corpus Christi means an hour drive for just about anything. Need something from Lowe’s or Home Depot? Sixty miles one way. Looking for a specific clothing or shoe item? Sixty miles one way. Planning a special anniversary dinner at a nice restaurant? Sixty miles one way. Get the picture?
Two short months after our arrival in Beeville, while I was still trying to acclimate, my new boss announced her resignation. I could only cry. More upheaval. Little did I know her departure was only the beginning of the work turmoil. A different boss, implementation of a new ERP system with sole responsibility for the modules related to my specific job, along with implementation of three more applications designed to work collaboratively with the ERP system.
To say I have been miserable would be like calling the gale force winds of a tornado, a slight breeze. It is no secret that I have openly referred to Beeville as, “the seventh circle of hell.” I mean no offense to the people who are from here, but for someone unaccustomed to life in a small community, the adjustment has seemed insurmountable.
As an educated upper middle-class white woman, living in a lower socio economic predominately Hispanic community, nothing is familiar. One is not better than the other, but inarguably different. I love the that the local taquerias serve refried beans and homemade tortillas with breakfast, and yet I am extremely uncomfortable when my inability to speak Spanish creates a language barrier with the server taking my order. When I venture out to run errands on my lunch break, my work clothes (that in my mind are casual), curly blonde hair and freckled skin draw undesired attention at places like the grocery store.
Frankly, I am ashamed of myself for allowing the defeat and despondency that have been part of my life for over two years. I stopped writing. I gained weight. I neglected my relationship with Christ. I quit speaking up. I gave up control and allowed others to exercise their agendas. I lost myself. I became a victim rather than a victor.
We are now one full year into implementation of all the new software, programs, etc. and finally I feel like the world is beginning to right itself. I still live in Beeville and will never love it here, but I have a new perspective.
Starting this fall, two young women in our church will be full time students at the community college where I am employed. Both of them are married with children and embarking on the journey of higher education for the very first time. I am incredibly proud of them both. As a former non-traditional student, I understand the far reaching, life changing impact of their decision to further their education.
While a small part of me feels like their association with my husband and I, we are always discussing education, helped put them on this path; I absolutely cannot deny that my role at the college has helped forge a much smoother path for not only these two young women, but for every single student. Please don’t think me vain. Be patient, I’ll make my point.
One of the new platforms I was responsible for is used as an intermediary between the college and the independently owned and operated bookstore. It allows students with financial aid awards in excess of their tuition and fees to make purchases at the book store with their funds prior to the aid disbursement date.
As I stood explaining to one of these young women how the process worked I had an epiphany; because of my blood, sweat and tears over the last year, she can walk into the bookstore with nothing more than her college id number and purchase the books and supplies she needs to be successful in the classroom. It was all I could do not to cry.
For the first time since we arrived in this small town, I felt like I had made a difference. I finally had a glimpse of my purpose in endearing the literal hell of the last few years. It may have taken me longer than most, but I have finally found beauty in what I’ve considered a negative space.
Have you found yourself miserable? Aimless? Lacking purpose? Yes? If so, I would say, don’t give up. Keep at it. What you are doing does make a difference and if you hang on long enough, you might just be fortunate enough to get a glimpse of how.
Until Next Time,
Becky J Miller
Warrior Princess