It's no secret that this move has been taxing - physically and emotionally. I knew it would, especially given the whirlwind way in which it was decided upon and executed.
I did a lot of thinking this weekend, about the move, about where life was going, and how I felt about it. I did a lot of pondering. And it all came down to one thing: Hope.
This move was about that one thing - hope for a better life, better financial situation, better job opportunities, better opportunities for Baby Girl to grow up knowing family, better opportunities for Himself to forge a relationship with Son. It wasn't about what Himself or I wanted for ourselves so much, as what we wanted for Son and Baby Girl. What we needed to be able to offer them the kind of life we felt was necessary. It was about extracting ourselves from materialism (I think the Hobbit Hole is an inadvertant, if not fitting, illustration of this concept in action) and re-focusing on what was most important.
Utah was never in the plans of my life prior to retirement age. When I spoke of "eventually" moving West, it meant "eventually, after we're established, we'll move to Denver, Seattle, California ... anywhere but back to Utah." I suspect Utah was in the plans of Himself's life, but he dared not discuss it with me, of the "Don't even think about it, I've shaken the red dirt of my feet, and I'm not coming back," mindset. Hence, the difficult transition ... added to being 7 months pregnant, seeing Himself 4.5 days in the last 5 weeks (a total of 6.5 weeks, by the time he arrives), starting a new job in a new not-so-corporate environment, and all the other woes of moving 2,200 miles.
As I sat this morning, my heart full of pleas to help me figure this all out - how this was such a good idea, how we were going to survive with so many unknowns... I kept coming across messages of Hope, Peace, Trust. Hope for a better life. Trust that things would work out. Peace in knowing we were doing the right thing. The right thing didn't have to be logicial or have a clearly defined path. That I didn't have to be okay with it all at once - that it was okay to be homesick, to look out over the desert landscape of the Frontier and miss the lush green of the East, to sit at church and long for even one familiar face, to have home not feel like a strange, awkward place.
Hope for the better things we are seeking was enough for now.
1 comment:
We miss you, too. But you had the courage to trust, and now you are where you need to be.
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