So, while John and I were basking in the dry, cool mountain air of New Mexico this past July, Z was at home, clearly panicking at the thought of living here forever. Possibly without me. (The fear of me dying is kind of a constant with him. It was always there, but got markedly worse with the cancer. Single parenting for a month rather exacerbated the whole thing. Understandable.)
So he went off plan and applied for a slew of jobs in New Mexico that month. (The deal has always been Colorado, or we stay here.) When I got back into signal range and read the job postings he'd forwarded to me, I started praying ...
"Lord, please not Alamogordo." (I have NOTHING against Alamogordo, for the record. It's a vibrant, neat little town with a strong Classical education community, and a ballet company. It could be a great place to live. But I have always maintained that if he worked in Alamogordo, I wanted to live in High Rolls or Cloudcroft, both of which just wash my mountain-loving soul in cool air and pine trees. I haven't had cool air and pine trees since 2003. But that would put us right back to living in the country and having to drive into town every. single. day. That thought kind of made me cry. Actually, it totally made me queasy.)
That job fell through. Thank you, Lord!
"Lord, Socorro? Really? This needs to be discussed?" (I've never lived in Socorro, and I'm sure we could make it work. NM Tech is there, and it's fantastic. It's not too far from the Bosque. There's a lot to commend it. But, again with the driving to get the kids to the things they do. And there are no mountains there to soothe the process. Sorry, Socorro, but I was actively praying against that one.)
That job fell through.
"Albuquerque? Well, Lord, you know I'd love it. And you know the kids would love it. We both know Z probably isn't going to love it. He might grow to like it ... I don't know. But, if it's gotta happen, then it's gotta happen. Your call." (It's ALWAYS His call. I know this. But he says to ask for what we want, and I'm taking Him at face value on that.)
So, Albuquerque it is.
We all hate to leave our people here. One of my biggest requests is that we have a home large enough that we can be a destination point for loved ones to come and see the West, stay with us, and allow us to repay the generosity and love they've shared with us.
The older boys may stay. James will, for sure. He's surviving college. He loves his job. He loves our church. He seldom gets lost when he's driving. He'll be 20 this year (oh, gosh, HOW?), so it seems there's not much point for him in uprooting to start over again.
John's measuring his options and seeing what he can see. He's 17. This is a good time to do that.
Jacob would gladly move in with someone from the ballet school to stay here, but since that's not an option, we've given him room to be morose, and then encouragement to embrace what he can about it. He plans to come back, perhaps for his Senior Year, to dance here. I'm okay with leaving that on the table. It'll be here before either of us know it, and who knows what he'll want to do then? But in the meantime, having that on the table gives him hope and frees him up to enjoy dancing in New Mexico without feeling like he's being unfaithful to his beloved HBC. I love his loyal, passionate heart.
Em and Jase are basically holding their breath and not making eye contact. They don't know what to expect. They haven't particularly enjoyed all the change and upheaval to date, and it's not what they would choose, but they're still young enough that if I promise them a good adventure, they'll trust that it's a good adventure. (Jase finds this exciting. I should, however, have chosen a different word for Em - an adventure is the last thing she hopes for. Ever. Oops. Still learning with that one!)
And so, our Alabama adventure appears to be drawing to a close. It's something we've known was coming for the last seven years, but truthfully, it came as a surprise. This is such a wonderful place to live, with so much available, and so many wonderful things in life here. It's hard to imagine another place that has so much to love as North Alabama does. Twelve and a half years of living will do that to a person, though. It's good. It's been good.
And the next chapter of our lives will also be good.
Be encouraged!
Dy
4 comments:
Moving! It's always a little scary, but also exciting. I want to move from here (it's been nine years) but Brenna is moved out, Delaney is positioning herself, and I don't want to be the one to leave. I don't think I could leave them behind. How are you feeingl about that?
Oh, Jennie, although I know it's a good plan that will likely serve both of them well, I do feel vaguely like I'm dropping a 4yo and a 2yo off in a bad part of town and just trusting that they'll be fine. It's not at all like that, of course, and if they were off to Anchorage or NYC for college while we stayed here, I wouldn't think twice.
That, in itself, speaks to the emotional and irrational aspect of all of this. Here, they have dear, dear friends. They have adults who know and love them. They have a church home with men and women who will check in on them and feed them. Here, they know their way around, and they have routines, favorite places, and a HUGE buffer of safety. Here, they have opportunities and good paths forward. So it makes sense for them to stay. (I'm the one who's going to have to find new dentists, doctors, midwives, and a church! Wahhh! They get to keep all the fabulous ones we've found over the years!)
But that doesn't stop my old eyes from looking at their 6' frames sauntering off to do their things and seeing only fat little toddlers with fluffy heads and little starfish hands toddle away into the unknown.
The upside is that I'm handling it better than Z, at least! :-D So at least only one of us is likely to completely lose it.
I understand, and thanks for sharing that. I don't know why it feels different if I leave vs. them leaving. They'd be fine, of course. That's what we've raised them up to be.
They would be just fine. And if they'd headed off to Anchorage or Thailand or Florida, you'd have missed them, but it wouldn't have carried that sense that you're abandoning them (which is what I think this feeling stems from). I think it's just the wording we've always used - fledging, leaving the nest, heading out ... it implies that we're somehow rooted and not supposed to move. Ever. But I don't think that's fair, or realistic. And I don't think it's something the kids impose on us - it's something we impose on ourselves, and then struggle with when we see that our own lives continue on, just like they did before we had children.
It's okay to move. It's okay to have new adventures. It might even be good for us. And if they want to relocate, they can. If they don't, then they can visit. We can visit them. It's all good.
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