Disclaimer: I wrote this post over a week ago. Today is gray and I’m struggling. I woke up with a stomach ache that lasted most of the morning. I laid in a dark room trying to decide if I had contracted Coronavirus and whether or not I was going to be put in isolation. Pepto Bismal helped so I’m taking it that I’m fine and my nerves got the best of me. Sometimes life is a lot to carry. Today I woke up feeling more lonely than I’ve ever felt in my life. So I read my own words (below) and decided to post them in case life seems to be getting the best of you and you need to read them too. My blog is all kinds of under construction but it’s the first time I’ve logged on in over a year so bear with me. You can’t subscribe right now, but I hope if you want to follow along you visit again soon.
When Jon called to tell me that we were moving to Lousiville, I cried. I knew it was coming. I knew from the moment we walked into that beautiful, white farmhouse that it was never ours to grow old in. Yet, I still walked in and did my best to make that beautiful house a beautiful home-knowing all along it was never truly mine.
Our plans never included two babies at once or a one-person income. We didn’t plan to go over budget or receive life altering medical news. We didn’t plan on mandatory lifestyle changes, extensive travel, demanding jobs, all-nighters, or sick babies. We built a house-on a farm-that we prayed over-with all of the right intentions-and it turned out to be a lifestyle that we could not maintain. So, when Jon’s company asked us to come to Lousiville, KY on special assignment, we knew that it was the opportunity we had both secretly been praying for to walk away.
Though we could justify several reasons to move, there were even more reasons to stay. However, we ultimately moved because God said to and it was impossible to ignore the call. Though I didn’t understand the call at first, I trusted that the undeniable peace in my soul meant it was right. With counsel from my closest mentors and the love of my family, I packed everything up the second day of 2020 and drove ahead of a moving truck to a place I had never been, in a state I never liked, 3 hours from all I was and had ever known. To put it bluntly, it sucked. Three weeks in and some days it still sucks.
People ask me how I could have left what I had and how on earth I am doing this not knowing what’s next and I don’t know how to answer that. Because it wouldn’t be a very holy, healthy answer and honestly I’ve asked myself the same thing repeatedly. I mean what am I supposed to say? I just do what I have to-and some days that means swallowing my Prozac with a Dr. Pepper and Fudge Round for breakfast following a night of “Puppy Dog Pals” because the babies won’t sleep? Should I answer that in all reality I want to go hone because despite the “glamor” people have projected on this whole thing I sit in my floor and cry because some days I just want to go home and don’t know what that even means right now? Because that doesn’t sound very “together” or holy or like the divine call of God in action. It sounds like I need a therapist (I have one, thanks).
I tried to limit the swearing in front of the children but the first few days following the move were NOT pretty. I was not in a good place mentally and physically I was exhausted. I called my friend Dianna in a state of panic nearly every day. We didn’t have Internet or TV for over a week (first world problem, I know). New place + no noise but the sick stricken cries of my babies almost sent me over the edge. I came very close to packing a bag and throwing a peace sign in Jon’s direction with an “I’m out”. A week later Jon had to make an overnight trip to Denver and apparently my children decided to drink a Red Bull before bed because literally they were up all.night.long. and there was so much snot and so much crying. I remember thinking “This is literally going to be the death of me” at around 3 a.m. I was in tears by the time morning came. To say “this whole thing is not what I planned” would be an understatement.
On the positive side, we started attending a church in the area and that has brought us a lot of comfort. We connected with another couple from our hometown that had moved to Louisville several years before us and they have been our lifelines. They have encouraged us and loved us up through this whole transition and were definitely brought into our lives by God himself. Our apartment is nice (loud) and I feel very safe in the area we live. I can only find Target and McDonald’s without a GPS but really what else do you need? I wish I could say that I’ve been brave and explored on my own but I haven’t. I mainly stay at the apartment but I am enjoying time alone with the boys and doing housework. I know that will get old-and eventually I will have to get out on my own-but right now, after living such a crazy hectic life, I’m treasuring the solitude.
Jon and I watch TV together at night. We watch movies too. We haven’t done that since the kids were born. The boys and I play together and I love having a routine with them during the day. They are noticing and learning so much every single day. (They also drive me to the brink of insanity, but that’s another story). Since we’ve come to Louisville, my eyes have been opened to so many things I never saw before. There is so much less stress in my day and so much more love. I take time to call my family and actually talk to them. I write. In fact, this is the first blog post I’ve sat down to write in probably over a year. I read. I watch TV (who knew there were so many options of things to watch?). I listen to music. I dream again. I didn’t realize I had ever stopped.
And as I quietly rock in this recliner as my babies nap in the other room, I realize that this uprooting of us, actually saved us from the undoing of us. Of our marriage. Of our family. Of who we are as people. It’s been extremely uncomfortable and down right painful at times, but it was necessary to get us back to who we really were all along. And it’s only been three weeks.
I somehow know that Lousiville will not be the place of replanting. I don’t know how all of this is going to work out-or where we go from here-but I feel in my spirit that Louisville isn’t for long. However, if we are here longer than I would like, I also know that it is a place of longsuffering as we are pruned and primed for replanting and ultimately given plenty of rest in the meantime. It’s a catalyst, not a Canaan.
It’s funny- the hardest transition I’ve ever gone through in my life has oddly brought me back in a way. Different. Scarred. A little bruised. A lot of Botox (I mean it is what it is, my forehead don’t move). But back to someone that was always there, just suffocated by voices and opinions and images to uphold. So are we getting settled? Yes. How am I feeling? Vulnerable, lonely, uprooted, scared-but ultimately strong, supported and deeply loved.