Several years ago, in broadly considering what might be my next career move, I felt very drawn home, or at least to the city that had for so very long felt like home to me.

I decided to visit Atlanta from Baltimore for a couple of days in order to get a feel for whether a more permanent return was really a right next step or whether the desire was motivated more by nostalgia. I was stunned when, walking into my hotel room, I noticed it featured a gorgeous, direct view of an iconic downtown building, as it was (and is) a landmark that has held so much meaning for me for a long time.

When I first moved to Atlanta on my graduation day from college, I had had almost no experience living on my own in a large city, let alone navigating one without a metro or easily memorizable city grid. But I learned quickly that, since my apartment was located very close to one of the city’s most easily recognizable – and visible – landmarks, no matter how lost I was, I could always just look for the illuminated top of this particular building, drive towards it, and be home before I knew it.

I loved the symbolism of this – that there was really no situation in which I could truly be lost so long as I did my best to be guided by that which I knew to be reliable.

Years later, a dear friend and I were both able to see this building from our respective apartments, and it was a comfort to talk and message with him when it was within both of our views.

During my hotel stay, however, as much as I loved these memories, I had been praying diligently not to be pulled into feelings of nostalgia, and rather to be open to the new things God had in store for me.

The thought came just after noting this view to look up the name of an author, Harriet Schupp, who had been such a wonderful friend to me while I had lived in that downtown apartment complex, and to pay attention to a specific poem she had written. (I felt, as I recall, that it would be a good idea to read the fourth entry of hers that came up in my search, even though I did not know what that would be, nor do I believe I had ever come across that particular work of hers before that moment.)

I was surprised when I saw the title of the poem “Room With a View,” and I knew I needed to pay attention. It read, in part,

“This is not a room for looking out …

This is a place for looking deep within

Where views unmatched are clear and pure

Where thoughts unspeakable unfold

To quiet listening.”

I did decide to relocate back to beautiful Georgia soon after this visit (although I missed Atlanta by about 100 miles), but the experience has been frustrating and, as I continue to pray about truly being in my right place, I feel I am still learning the lesson behind this meaningful poem.