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Beautiful, Boundless Cultural Bubbles

It is 2010.

I stare from outside of the bubble at a lovely, beautiful culture;  a culture of rich history, deep colors and satisfying simplicity.    From my position outside, I want to skip over the entry and the adjustment and just be inside that bubble.

My head analyzes and plans and predicts and dreams.  My heart weighs and counts the things that will have to go to make room for life inside the bubble.  My soul begs and pleads with God to provide what it will need to be on the opposite side of the bubble from my crutches (friends, church, good food, material things).

It is 2011.

My right foot takes a step and tries to tentatively dip a toe in.    The rest of me remains firmly planted in the ground that grew me.    My toe wiggles and punctures the weighty skin of the bubble's outer film.

It is 2012.

I get one leg in and it seems the rest of me just will not be undone from that fertile soil, that well-tilled place that I call my first home.     My lonely leg hobbles around, fall…

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