I've been procrastinating this post for awhile - my first public thoughts since moving. Mostly because my thoughts haven't been fit for public consumption. Even now, I'm uncomfortably aware of the need to temper my thoughts and feelings with grace, because the honest truth is that deep down, I'm a grumpy, selfish 36-week-pregnant lady. But the even deeper truth is that God is so good to us, and has used the crucible of these last few weeks to teach me more about the depths of His grace than I ever expected.
On May 3, our little family moved in with Joel's parents and sister. We now outnumber the native inhabitants of the house, and will soon add a newborn to the mix. So when I think all my cranky thoughts about not having my own washer and dryer, my own kitchen, my own 1800 square feet in which to nest, the first thing I ought to remind myself (but usually fail to do so) is that we are not the ones who are being inconvenienced here. We are being welcomed, accommodated, and blessed by the generosity and hospitality of our family.
Two weeks in, and I'm finally starting to feel like I know which way is up. I'm starting to brainstorm what our routine could look like (Monday morning going to the park with some other mommas, including my dear sister in law and her kids; Wednesdays, library story time or Moms' Bible study depending on the week...). It helps me to anchor my days and weeks a bit, at least until baby brother arrives and throws everything off-kilter again. This morning we even ventured into Bible verse review at breakfast, something that hasn't crossed my mind in weeks, possibly months.
The first few days were some of the most emotionally intense times of my life. Battling exhaustion, unpacking our bare necessities into 1/20th (rough estimate) of the space we usually live in, changing my definition of necessity. We attended church the morning after we got here and the emotions felt like a punch to the gut. Walking into a church that I've visited over the past ten years as a girlfriend, fiance, and then wife to the pastor's son, suddenly felt oppressive and too much. The same warm hugs and smiles that previously felt so welcoming, now struck me as intrusive. I couldn't fight the mental repetition of, "This isn't my church family. My church family is a hundred miles away in a 200-year-old country church with stained glass windows that make it too hot in the sun, worshipping without me."
I realized then that I needed time to process, time to adjust, and time to, honestly, grieve. The past few weeks were such a whirlwind of packing and organizing and doing that I hadn't had much time to experience the feelings that go along with such a major transition. And by transition, I mean leaving absolutely everything familiar and beloved. Sure, we were heading toward many more things that were already familiar and beloved, as well as new and abundant blessings from the Lord, but at the same time there was a profound sense of loss that hit me like a brick.
I drove away from my job, my career, to become a stay at home mom on a Thursday. And two days later, I watched all my worldly possessions parade from my home into a truck, and finally and unceremoniously into two big, empty, windowless storage units. I said tearful goodbyes to best friends and dearest nannies. I threw gigantic silent pity parties for myself.
But you know what? God has been so good. Two weeks later, and I've gone shooting with the "Annie Oakley Club" from my new church (honestly I watched everyone else shoot because the gunshots sent baby brother into elbow-throwing hysterics, but it was still fun!), the ladies of my new church home are throwing a small "Baby Sprinkle" for us this Saturday to help us feel welcome (which we do!), and I played the piano for worship on Sunday. I've exchanged smiles, hugs, and stories with old and new friends. I've even determined the exact most helpful angle for the ironing board in the basement as I press Joel's work clothes every night. The roses are slowly outnumbering the thorns in this whole process, and it's not the circumstances that are changing; it's my heart.
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