The Lord has smiled upon this ‘ol soul.
Six months ago, when we moved down to Alabama, I experienced more of an emotional challenge than I can ever remember facing. Each day, I had to face the roller coaster of hormones and feelings that naturally accompany such a big change.
And truth be told, I still do. I'm like a crazy person with two personalities. Just ask my husband.
Some days are good and some days are bad. At weak moments, the pain of missing not only my family, but also the dear town I've grown up in for the past twenty six years, feels unbearable. Friends. Church. Evergreens. Sagebrush. You know…familiarity.
Other days, I can easily see the blessings abounding down here and can appreciate all the wonderful treats and special-ness that living in the deep South has. Couple that with the fact that we've already established wonderful relationships with a bounty of friends, become involved in a great new church and school, and it's made for as beautiful of a transition as one could have hoped for.
Even other days, I feel both happy and sad. For example, yesterday I was explaining to Stuart how radical (west-coast word, what what!) it is to be able to harvest such a bounty of produce in the middle of January down here. Back in Washington, garden beds currently rest under a chilled blanket of snow and will continue to do so for months to come. Not fifteen minutes later, I was in tears and practically started to hyperventilate as I began to picture five, ten, or fifteen years down the road if we never went back to Washington.
The Lord has given me great grace in being at peace with Alabama and really coming to love it in a special way. I do love it here.
Unfortunately, Fairhope is missing something incredibly important.
And dang, man. I miss them like crazy every single day.
Which leads me to the ‘Lord smiling on this ‘ol soul' part. Through a series of financial circumstances (the details of which would no-doubt bore you so we'll skip them), my Mom and Dad were able to buy Stuart, Georgia, and I tickets to fly home over the school's Winter Break next month.
Owen will have to stay behind.
I'M KIDDING! I'M KIDDING! He just doesn't have to have a ticket. He gets to cuddle with Mommy the whole way.
Seriously, guys. I get to see my family for the first time in six months. I get to see home.
I get to smell that sweet Western air.
And eat bread from my favorite bakery.
I get to ride my horse! (Let's not concentrate on the fact that I haven't been back in the saddle since I was pregnant with Georgia.)
We get to see friends:
And drink coffee from my favorite drive-thru coffee stand (the like of which does not exist in the deep south, sans Starbucks).
I'll get to meet my cousin's baby, Avery, who was born only two days after our little Owen. And see my aunts, uncles, and Grandpa.
I get to eat my Mom's cooking. And sit around their kitchen island sipping wine. I get to converse with my sisters, face to face, and love on my nephews and niece. I get to ‘let down' in the way that is only possible when I'm back at my parents.
To say it's going to be rad would be an understatement.
You, my dear readers, shared in my pain and prayed for me heavily during our decision to move down to Alabama. You've been with me before, during, and in the after-math of this decision. You've listened to me complain about the bugs and heat. You've listened to me ramble on about all the trials and tribulations it's entailed.
But now, I hope, you can share with me in this great joy!
Joy, I tell you!
Dang Dave sure wasn't going to allow for any ticket purchasing on our end. I am so thankful the Lord saw fit to bless us in this way.
He must have known girlfriend needed a hug from her Mom & Dad.
I already can't wait to share our journey back to the Motherland with you. It's going to be awesome.
Four weeks and counting.
Not that I'm counting. Oh wait, I just said I was. Never mind.
Fine, I'm counting.
It's four weeks. Just in case you want to count with me.