Under the oak tree was my playground. Growing up in a tiny, south Alabama town, my closest neighbor was a quarter of a mile down the road through woods and pasture. So I had no neighborhood kids to play with. But I had yard. Lots and lots of yard. And I had a large open spot under the tree.
My family home sat atop a hill off the rural country road. We had a paved driveway leading up to the house. The freedom to play down by the tree at the end of the driveway felt like I had been given permission the equivalent of walking down the street to play at a friend’s house.
I spent many hours playing down by that tree. I imagined I was my favorite fictional detective, Nancy Drew, out to solve the case. I was Elizabeth Wakefield (the superior of the Sweet Valley twins), trying to maneuver junior high. I was Debbie Gibson singing “Out of the Blue.” I was whoever I wanted to be because it was just me, with acres of room to bring my imagination to life.
Out of all the memories I have of being under that tree, there is one that I remember in vivid color. I can recall it fully, almost as if I’m looking down at myself as part of an out-of-body experience. But, to me, it’s more reality than a memory, as the experience of that particular moment directed my life and still guides me today.
I was down under the oak tree. An avid reader and writer (even then), I acted out all of the characters in my dream of the moment. In the middle of playing, I looked up toward my house. It was a nice home, brick with a pool, and I had my own bedroom. I took in the acres surrounding our home, the cows in the pasture, and the tire-trodden lanes that led down to the fishing pond. It was a sunny day with a bright blue sky. All of my needs were met, and I had not a care in the world. Despite all that, at the young age of eight, I had a void. I gazed at my house and thought, “There has to be something more.”
At that age, Something More to me was living in a town with an actual mall. It was going to Montgomery to ice skate during the holidays. It was the excitement of taking a short drive and spending a warm day at Panama City Beach (pre the rise of 30A). I loved my family and received a good education. But I knew very early on that there was Something More for me outside of small-town Alabama.
Something More led me to move away to a college where I had no friends or ever visited (Let’s be honest, when you grow up in Alabama, you don’t have to have ever been to Tuscaloosa to know you’re going to school there.) From Tuscaloosa, Something More led me to Nashville, a city where I knew not a single person and where I had visited once but felt instantly at home. Something More has led me to love cities and experiences like New York, Boston, and the island of Nantucket. Places where I feel like a part of me grows each time I visit. Most recently, Something More has led to me seeking my purpose and discovering that it has everything to do with encouraging and helping women to discover their Something More.
Something More is personal and unique to each person. For one, it could be selling everything and moving to a new country to experience life in a different way. For another, it could be as simple as dedicating time each week to work on a hobby or passion because that time brings rest and restoration. And for another, it could be deciding that the last drink was the last drink, and it’s time to live life differently.
John 10:10 says that Jesus came so that we could have life and “have it abundantly” (ESV). I believe that Something More falls right into the abundant life. Do you know what your Something More is? Are you finding ways to live it out in your life? Whether you’re already living your best Something More life or aren’t sure how to bring your Something More to life, I’d love to join and encourage you on the journey.