Why Nashville?

“Why Nashville?” 

I’ve gotten that question a lot since announcing my move back to Music City. The answer is simple at the root: Nashville feels like home. 

But the journey to get here? 

Well, that’s a story. 

Let’s set the scene first. 

Summer 2021

I was living in Los Angeles, preparing for my second of three years of an MFA program in writing and producing for television, had just started a new job, and was overall happy with life in L.A. I was doing a lot of hiking, spending a fair amount of time at the beach, and just starting to teach Pure Barre. I wasn’t thriving, exactly, but I had only been there a few months and felt confident that it would be my home for a long time to come. I was excited about school and determined to make it in Hollywood. I figured the rest of it – friends, finding a community, going on a date that wasn’t meh – would come. 

Fall 2021

I was more sure than ever that I was in Los Angeles for the long haul. I had a great semester. I wrote two pilots I felt passionate about and had the best experience in my entertainment business class, so much so I was considering a career in development. I ended the year on a high note and when I came back to L.A. after spending Christmas in Virginia, I was ready for whatever 2022 held, ready to explore more of Los Angeles, and to continue with my program. 

January 7, 2022

I’m a journaler. I like to write out my thoughts, feelings, goals, document my days, write out my prayers. I fill those pages with some of my deepest thoughts, work through a lot of feelings and life hurdles. I’ve lost count of how many journals I’ve filled over the years, but I hold on to each of them – looking back through them from time to time is a great reminder of how far I’ve come, and of how God has worked in my life. 

On January 7th, I sat at my desk writing out my goals for the year ahead along with action items for how I was going to get there. As I finished writing out a travel goal and turned my attention to a financial goal, I heard a voice, as clear as though there were someone sitting beside me, say: 

Move to Nashville. 

I know that voice. That voice is the Holy Spirit. I’ve heard it audibly a few times before, all at critical times in my life. I’ve learned by now that I should listen when it speaks. Because when I hear it? It’s extra important. 

I wrote this down in my journal: 

Move to Nashville: I don’t know why I put this one. I just felt called to.

I included no action items. I had no intention whatsoever of leavingLos Angeles and I had another year and a half of my program ahead of me. I was certain I would not be packing up to leave Los Angeles anytime soon. 

I carried on with my journaling and didn’t think much about that Nashville goal until a couple of weeks later when I was putting together my vision board for the year. For whatever reason, I added two photos of Nashville. There was no real thought about it – I just felt like I was supposed to add them, so I did. I was planning a long-awaited and much needed trip to Nashville to meet up with one of my very best friends, so surely that was all those photos were meant to represent – an already planned trip. 

Then I went to Nashville. 

February/March 2022 

Somewhere between the end of January and early February, something changed. I can’t pinpoint what it was or when it happened, but as the first few days of 2022 turned into weeks, Los Angeles felt hard. I missed Nashville. I hadn’t lived there since 2013, but there was something about it I couldn’t shake. It would creep into my thoughts while I worked or a Facebook memory would pop up or I would see someone wearing a Nashville t-shirt while I was out grocery shopping. The number of times I was cut off by a car with Tennessee license plates during this time period is laughable.

The idea of Nashville just wouldn’t go away. 

By the time my trip to Nashville arrived, my reason to visit had become twofold – spend time with the bestie, Hanna, in one  of my favorite places, but also see if Nashville still fit, see if there was something more to this nagging Nashville feeling. As the plane descended into Music City and I got my first glimpse of more green than I had seen in months, I burst into tears. 

It was a visceral reaction. One moment I was fine, the next I was in tears. It was like my entire body exhaled a sigh of relief as Nashville came into view. I remember thinking “I’m home.” 

I really thought spending a few days in Nashville would cure my “Nashville-itis.” I thought being there, getting a hit of my favorite places, and seeing how much it has changed in the years since I last lived there would curb my appetite for Music City. My life was in Los Angeles, after all. I just needed to get Nashville out of my system. 

Nashville only dug itself in deeper. 

In the hours before my flight back to LAX, I posted up at Frothy Monkey to write for a while. I was sad. Melancholy. Maybe even a little depressed. The only thing I wanted to do was get on a plane to L.A., scoop up my dogs and a few more items of clothing, and head back to Nashville. As I walked to my rental car to head for the airport, I asked God for a sign: 

If you want me to move back to Nashville, please send me a cardinal. 

No more than 15 seconds later, a male cardinal flew across my path and landed on a nearby rooftop. It proceeded to fly alongside me for the next couple of blocks, all the way to my car. Talk about an immediate YES. 

So I went back to L.A. and started to apply for jobs. I got two interviews right away and one was especially promising. 

I didn’t get either job. 

And for several months, I didn’t get so much as an interview despite applying to more than a dozen jobs. There was the occasional ping of hope when I got a note that my application was being reviewed or I got an initial request for an assessment or to answer a few questions via recorded video, but that hope was crushed a few days later. The rejection took a toll on me mentally, so I took a full week off of applying and even browsing job sites. I needed some space from it, and to re-evaluate this whole Nashville thing. 

May 2022

Memorial Day weekend, I journaled my frustrations. By then, I’d been job searching for two months with little success. I kept reminding myself I didn’t need a job – I had one in Los Angeles after all – and that the right job would come at the right time. Except I had received so many signs about Nashville and I knew in my bones that I needed to be there. If I was supposed to be there, why wasn’t I there? Why was I slogging through a program I had started to dislike more with each passing week? Why was I struggling in Los Angeles? 

Why was it taking so long? 

As I journaled, I heard that voice again. I wrote what I heard: 

This is the beginning of the end of your time in Los Angeles. The right job is coming. You will apply for that job this weekend. 

I applied for the job I ultimately accepted that weekend, right after, in that same journaling session, I realized I had been playing small in my job search and applying for things I was overqualified for. As soon as I took a chance and applied for roles that would push me? I was interviewing for no less than three positions within days, two of which I was offered. 

June 30, 2022

It was a Thursday, my heavy meeting day. Except the meeting gods were smiling down on me and canceling meetings left and right. I had just received yet another meeting cancellation when my phone rang. It was my now boss with a job offer and a “how soon can you get to Nashville?” By the next afternoon, my offer had been finalized and it was happening – I was headed to Nashville. 

July 2022

July was a blur of finding a place to live, finding someone to take over my Los Angeles lease, packing to move across the country, wrapping up one job, starting another, and at the end of the month, beginning the four-day trek across the United States with two dogs in tow. I didn’t have time to process it all, but that’s the beauty of a long drive – there’s a lot of time for steering wheel prayers. 

I believe God speaks to us in a language we can best understand. He sends me a lot of visual signs and has given me the gift of knowing in addition to that small, still voice I hear from time to time when He wants to be especially clear. I asked Him for a sign during that drive to reassure me that I was on the right path. I didn’t specify what I was asking for like I usually do. I decided to let God make that call. I would know it when I saw it. 

As we drove out of Kentucky and into Tennessee, I was met with a double rainbow. There was also a specific song on the radio. 

Okay then. 

But there was one more sign to come… 

August 1, 2022 

I picked up the keys to my new apartment. The U-Haul container with most of my things doesn’t arrive until the end of this week, so it didn’t take long to unload what I did bring. After a long day of putting things away and buying half of Target, I finally stopped moving long enough to open Facebook and check my memories. 

Here’s what I posted one year ago: 

How kismet is that? 

God knew where He was moving me. 

And so, that’s why Nashville. Because I feel called here, like I’m supposed to be here. One could argue I was literally called here. Nashville feels like where I’m supposed to be right now. It feels like I have something important to do here. I told one of my friends I feel like my husband is here (so if you know who he is, give him my number?). I’m excited to see what Nashville holds. 

I’m feeling pretty good about it. 🙂