“U in Spain? If so, I guess you’re not getting this,” my friend texted.

               “No, actually I’m not…Long story! Let’s get together,” I responded.

               A few weeks later, COVID-19 began spreading along with overpowering, thrashing, careening mass panic, effectively shutting down borders and international travel. I made the right decision not to go teach English in Spain. But not necessarily solely because of the virus.              

               Similar to my zigzagged, roundabout path toward finding a niche in the photography world, identifying my artistic style and preferred subject matter through a process of photographing everything except what I truly loved (travel), this past year I unpacked every restless dream, touched it, explored it, and took steps to make it a reality. Instead of re-packing it all and buying a one-way ticket to Spain, I ended up back at “Plan A.” Why?! My friends ask.

               After a recent trip to Madrid and Ibiza, I found myself crying on my suitcase during the layover in Atlanta. In 2010, I went abroad for the first time to Puerto Rico, promptly wanting to move there. Repeat this same scenario with London, Venice, and Paris. “This is where it is,” a European life of blissfully sipping espresso at quaint cafes, strolls through cobblestone streets, museums, Italian discos, and romance on euphoric heights whispered an enticing promise. However, Spain captured my heart like a foreign lover with ebony eyes, olive skin, and luscious words of adoration, mercilessly drawing me back to its vibrant culture and beautiful way of life. I was in love. With a country. I needed to go back. I had to go back.

            And so began the quest for a “better life,” keenly aware of my ever-searching, restless, wanderlust soul, constantly questioning whether something more existed if I chose a different life, agonizing over missing out, fearful of failing to fulfill all God called me to do, and allured by a temptation to compare my struggles to the blissful appearance of others’ circumstances. Which fence do I want to cross to reach greener grass? In reality, I needed to take off my tinted sunglasses, and exchange them for new lenses to see my own situation in a different light!

 It began with an opportunity presented to work as a flight attendant. I constructed a glamorous picture in my head, imagining jet-setting to Dubai, Iceland, or Tel Aviv with my blazing red lipstick, freshly pressed uniform, and smooth sailing travel. After deliberating, researching, and much introspection, I came to grips with reality…Long, tumultuous hours. Getting transferred. A low salary initially. Customer service. Minimal time in exotic places, those destinations pleading with me for an extended stay. Personal health issues. Through the decision-making process, I realized…My annual trips abroad provided time to discover a country’s nooks and crannies, serving me better than bouncing from place to place. I also began appreciating my stable, reliable routine, previously viewed as a drawback.

The next best option? Go teach English in Spain, of course! Thus began eleven months of planning and preparation. Spreadsheets. Phone calls. Emails. Hours of Google searches, consulate websites, Facebook expat forums.

And then, I hit a major, disheartening snag- I needed a Bachelor’s Degree to teach abroad. I wrestled with feelings of failure, irreversibly screwing up my life, and regretting my decision to resign from college at nineteen years old. Ultimately, this destructive self-deprecation led me to apply at the local community college, investigating yet another option. I dug into possible majors, and weighed future benefits against lifelong goals. After talking with department heads, alumni, and long conversations with Dad, I stopped the frenetic search, asking the question, “Do I like teaching? Do I want to teach? I don’t know. Never done it. No experience. Zip. Zilch. None.” Why pursue an educational avenue without any experiential knowledge?! At least some frame of reference?

Thus, I enrolled in the International TEFL Academy instead, beginning a twelve week course of studying, lesson planning, and two months of student teaching, finally obtaining my TEFL “Teaching English as a Foreign Language” certification, followed by another intensive course geared toward private tutoring online. Although I treasure the experience for many reasons, I received my answer- teaching was not the answer! Nor my calling. Or passion.

I searched other avenues to propel this dream into existence, investigating potential real estate investment properties, circling options like an airplane in a holding pattern, waiting on a Colorado hail storm to pass, pink skies dappled with massive thunderheads. My inquiry slammed against a closed door. Turn the plane around, we can’t land here. I needed an air traffic controller for my life- even praying felt confusing, littered with my own thoughts, fears, and God’s words sprinkled sporadically throughout pages of journaling.

Finally a pro/con list settled the needed answers, blazing and buzzing like a neon sign outside the local bar on a hot, sticky Midwest night, weighted down heavily with a vital life lesson. The negatives far outweighed the positives- I disliked teaching. I work in a wonderful job, which I felt extremely reluctant to leave. Renting the house, moving back home, selling my car. To live legally, a student visa remained my only option- an extensive, tedious process. Language classes. Homework. Lesson planning. Grading. A shared living situation. Barcelona instead of my beloved Madrid. Leaving Colorado. My family. Friends. The planning stages far from a joyful labor of love anymore, this plan burdened my heart. Deeply. I was moving…Backwards.

My mentors asked, “What are you trying to achieve by moving to Spain? What’s your objective? Can this be done another way?” I identified adventure, travel, a way of life with less hecticness, and taking time to explore a new culture in-depth. Yep, there’s a better way. In the meantime, the plane circled back, landing on Plan A, which worked all along. My best life is here. Now. The grass remains green on this side, a Crayola crayon box green, lush and vibrant, working my office job, embracing my own home, nurturing friendships, pursuing my true God-given gifts and talents.

“Look at that picture,” a friend remarked, pointing at a painting on my wall of a couple sitting in a romantic European café. “How many people are trying to come here to the U.S., coveting the life you have, chasing the life you live?” A lot. If anything, sprawling suitcases of dreams across my bed and examining the contents of each taught me contentedness. Gratitude. Satisfaction. It settled the dust of incessant restlessness, searching for an elusive “better life” out of angst and agitation, the persuasive yet misleading whispers of a robust life elsewhere falling empty like a mirage. Wherever we live, challenges will abound. Bills roll in, someone gets sick, plans change. In a search to elude pains of this world, I only swap problems. “The great life” starts within. Here. Now.

The quest and hunger for adventure remains, but no longer from a position of desperation or fear. Like many of you, I anxiously wait for lifted travel restrictions, itching to explore new territories, and dreams still abundantly abound. Perhaps futuristic shifting winds will lead my life abroad in an unexpected perfect way, but for the moment- I am living my best life here, tending to my own green grass, doing what I love.