I've gotta tell ya, it's been one heck of a week here on the homestead.
First, we announced to the world that we were going to be parents again. (YAY!)
And then, last Wednesday, we accepted a teaching position in Fairhope, Alabama.
For those of you new to the blog, we currently live in Washington state. That means our new destination is approximately 2,600 miles from home. Maybe it will be forever. Maybe it won't. All I know, is that right now, it hurts.
To be honest, after we made the final decision, I spent the next two days crying. At one point, with tears streaming down my cheeks, I looked up to heaven and spoke out loud to God, “I won't survive.”
I couldn't wear mascara for almost three days. My swollen, puffy, eyelids kept getting in the way of my lashes.
Each day is still like that in a way. It's a roller coaster of emotion. Sadness and devastation for the home and loved ones being left behind here coupled with anxiousness and nervousness for what awaits.
As I cried with a fellow church member after the service yesterday, I explained to her how humbling this situation has been for me. It's as if the Lord has stripped away all these ‘things' in my life that I was finding great comfort it. Without realizing it, I'd begun to rely on these ‘things' for my happiness and for my security. I was finding my peace in them as opposed to God. When family, friends, church, jobs, gardens (don't laugh), hometowns, and literally every-familiar-thing are stripped away – where do I find my peace? My comfort? If you'd asked me a month ago, I would have easily said “I find my comfort in God.” Now, with all of these comforts having been stripped away with our plan to move, I'd still say “I find my comfort in God”, but this time, that's truly all I can find my comfort in.
Because this situation is anything but comfortable.
This has been my conversation with God:
But God, this isn't part of my plan.
But it's part of mine for you. Whose do you think is better?
But God, this makes me uncomfortable.
I haven't called you to be comfortable, I have called you to serve, glorify, and trust Me.
But God, I don't want to leave my family.
Am I not your Father? Will I not be there with you? As well as your brothers and sisters in Christ?
But God, I don't have the emotional energy to tackle this.
I promise to never give you more than you can handle. Lean on Me for your strength.
As hard as situations like this can be, it's evident that the Lord is doing great work in our family. Pride has been stripped away and replaced with clear dependence. Confidence has passed and has been replaced with humility. Self-made plans have been destroyed and replaced with God's purpose and calling.
Moving, my friends, will not be easy.
I've come to terms with the fact that the pain will ease, but will never leave. Being away from my family will cause me to be reliant on my husband in a way I haven't had to before. And while this may be good for our family and marriage in the long run, the immediate pain is just that. Painful.
Did I mention that I'm pregnant and nauseous and have enough hormones running through my veins to kill a moose?
All that to say, I have six weeks to pack up my home and begin the journey south. The purging involved with moving has already begun – there is a lot of work to do to prepare for such a long trip.
All the work that has gone into the gardens this year will be lost – looking at my sweet tomato plants brings tears to my eyes. And to leave all my soil, harvests, and raised beds… it's a tragedy. This is the stuff that inspired Shakespeare.
As sad as I am, I am thankful the Lord sees us fit for this trial. I am thankful He has caused us to submit to His will in such an extreme way. And I am thankful for the growth and spiritual maturity we will gain from this.
I am also thankful the Lord has heard our prayers and provided us with a wonderful work opportunity for Stuart that will allow me to stay home with the munchkins next year. Though I suppose when you pray such prayers, you'd better be ready for them to be answered in His way – not in yours.
I also wanted to tell you all ‘thank you' for your sweet comments and prayers during this time. I've had such encouragement from my readers – what a great blessing.
What I told Stuart our next baby would be an Alabama baby, he replied, “Roll Crimson Tide!”
“Huh? What the heck are you talking about? What's a Crimson Tide?”
“You're not from the South, obviously.”
“Obviously. I thought you knew that little fact about me.”
Please forgive me, Alabama readers. I still have a lot to learn.