Our Adventures Begin

Recently, we were overjoyed to discover that our youngest child’s heart had been healed. Now, one day shy of two weeks later, I sit in our second temporary home, listening to the rain on the roof of this sleepy little house; and so, our adventures begin.

Two weeks. Fourteen days. Three hundred and thirty-six hours. I just do not see a way to make that seem like a long period of time after all that we have accomplished.

My husband came home on a Thursday. I know because I was secretly pining for a Friday night date night and he was cutting it close. He was scheduled to be back at work the following Wednesday…oh, how we hate watching Daddy go. The next day (Friday!), we met with our realtor to discuss selling options. By 2pm we had made a decision and the papers were signed. Full-timing would not just happen; it would happen immediately.

Anyone who has been in my life for any considerable amount of time knows that I can be a bit of a bull. When I’m ready for something to happen I tend to charge ahead the moment an opportunity presents itself. This situation would inevitably be the same. I warned everyone. I was honest. I knew myself well enough to know that when we reached that cliff, I would hurl myself over the edge with an almost reckless enthusiasm.

Our decision had been made. It was 2pm on a Friday afternoon and we had just allotted ourselves 4 days to store almost everything we owned, set up a mailbox address, alert the utility departments, cancel unnecessary services, and travel 1,244 miles with three children all under the age of four. Yes, we definitely exchanged panicked looks of “this is happening” as the realtor shut the door.

To say we were a bit overwhelmed would be an understatement. It took about five minutes for it to sink in and then we dove into action. Blurs of phone calls, website orders/bookings, and last-minute errands ensued and filled our next few hours. Saturday and Sunday were rushed packing, trying to find our true friends who would help (shout out to Pam & Greg!), moving thing to the storage unit, and deciding what we could give away or what needed to go with us. Let me tell you: if you are wanting to go full-time, de-clutter NOW! I knew I would appreciate the effort when the time came but I can’t begin to fathom how daunting the move would have been if we hadn’t. Even with some preparation we still had WAY too much *stuff*.

Everything was boxed, bagged, stored, packed, or staring me in the face. We had a list of quick errands to run before leaving town and a bag of road snacks handy. This was it. This would be the last time we would drive away from the first home we had ever owned. The home we had celebrated our marriage in. The home where we first brought two of our children after welcoming them into the world. The home where we blossomed into the family we are now. We were too excited to fully register the emotions of leaving and for the most part, I still am.

Just because we are not mourning the move does not mean leaving was easy. We both love where we grew up and love our families. What we are heading towards and where we are now is why this choice was important. It is knowing he gets to chase his passions and still come home to us every night. It is seeing the opportunities we will be able to provide our children with. It is anticipating nights like these.

The Cowboys are playing, my husband is rocking a sleepy baby, the older children are jumping around, and I’m writing. It may not be adventurous or exciting tonight but we are together. I have dreamt of these moments for three years now. Knowing it won’t have to end, after all of the goodbyes we’ve faced, is indescribable. I only pray that ALL of our loved ones can understand.